


A Kingdom of Three

by blossombell, mumrikpaws



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fairy Tale Elements, Folklore, High Fantasy, M/M, Magic, Moomintroll POV, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Romance, Snusmumriken | Snufkin Has Paws and a Tail, don't call us out for being furries we won't be able to take it, moomintroll is a leo man and it shows, not a single character in this fic is heterosexual and i stand by that, snorkmaiden has a battle axe, this story brought to you by 2020 quarantine madness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28490619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blossombell/pseuds/blossombell, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mumrikpaws/pseuds/mumrikpaws
Summary: Prince Moomintroll’s kingdom is at war.For three years, the Moomins and Snorks have been at odds over a terrible tragedy that split their long affiliation apart. Moomintroll has fought to remain close to the Princess Snorkmaiden, but now he feels their friendship slipping through his fingers.On the first night of spring, a sudden encounter turns Moomintroll’s comfortable existence upside-down. The Prince quickly discovers that the rogue who invaded his castle is far more than just a lone Mumrik criminal - and that his and Snufkin’s lives are inexorably entwined…
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll & Snorkfröken | The Snork Maiden, Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Comments: 25
Kudos: 66





	1. Once Upon a Time

**Author's Note:**

> happy new year!!!
> 
> my goodness. it has been nearly 2 entire years since i posted a moomin fic on here? and it's wild because by no means did i leave the fandom, like at all, i just wound up lurking in the corner like the goblin that i am
> 
> i have to say that when every plan i had for 2020 went up in smoke, my buddy mumrikpaws was there to catch me, and this is the product of all of that - a crazy behemoth high fantasy fic that spawned when i watched the witcher at 2am and accidentally hyperfixated, WHOOPS
> 
> i really hope all of you love this - WE love it, we were obsessed with it for months, and now we don't know what to do with it except thrust it towards you. take it. TAKE IT HAVE IT
> 
> I LOVE YOU BYE

Prince Moomintroll rode through the forest at a thundering gallop. 

The dusk was deep and thick as it tilted slowly towards night, but Moomintroll would know the curves and bends of the path even in pure darkness. The trees were merely a blur at the speed he was riding; birds in their evensong twittered at the brief commotion, taking to the air to dodge the Prince as he flew past.

Leaning forward towards his horse’s neck, Moomintroll kept his breathing even as the wind whipped between his ears.

It was doubtful whether the Princess would even be there. Moomintroll had sent countless unanswered letters since the turn of the year, and he was beginning to wonder if she’d received any of them at all. Perhaps he had simply been writing into the paws of an unknown third party - the King, or some hawkish advisor who had thrown all of Moomintroll’s affection into the nearest fire.

He wasn’t really sure of anything anymore.

Slowing to a canter, Moomintroll noticed the trees thinning out into a clearing. The grove was situated exactly halfway between the capital cities of the Snork and Moomin Kingdoms, and it had been their sole meeting-place for the last two years. Even in blasting rain or sheets of snow, they would both make the journey to the middle on the turn of the month, to sit and eat and share with each other as if nothing had changed. 

That was, until the Princess stopped coming.

Moomintroll pulled his horse to a standstill, swinging his leg over the saddle and sliding down. His boots landed in the grass beneath him, and he drew his paw down the side of the grey stallion’s neck. The bridle rattled with a metallic click. 

“There we are, Finneas,” he murmured, and Finneas chaffed in response. “Hopefully not a wasted trip this time, eh?”

The twilight was fading fast, the light crawling back into the shadows and leaving everything to stand in stark black. Up above, the first stars were beginning to peek out from the inky blue, and Moomintroll felt a twist of anticipation in his gut.

“Hello?” he called. His eyes scanned the gathering darkness, but there was little he could pick out. There was silence at first, Moomintroll half-holding his breath. Then:

“Moomintroll?”

The Prince’s heart leapt. He slowly stepped forward, twigs snapping underfoot.

“Moomintroll?” he heard again. “Is that you?”

The voice was unmistakable. A young woman sat on a nearby boulder just a few yards away, the scarce moonlight reflecting in her gaze as she lifted her head. 

It was her.

Princess Snorkmaiden blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the sight of Moomintroll in front of her. She wore a tailored travelling dress, the hem of which flowed down around her feet, and the tip of her long blonde hair was clasped gently between her paws. She rose up from the boulder, and Moomintroll rushed to greet her with arms outstretched.

“Snorkmaiden—!” 

Moomintroll stopped a few feet away. The Princess remained still, her paws limp by her sides.

She looked strange - severe, her eyes rooted on him. Her usual warmth had been replaced with a stony regard, reflected in the odd, grey-ish hue of her fur. 

She looked as if someone had drained her very soul.

“I'm going to make this clear,” she said. “We have to stop this. No more letters. No more visits. Do you understand?”

Moomintroll’s eyes widened. His mouth fell open and he stuttered an incredulous laugh, shaking his head. His heart thudded until it started to ache. 

“What?”

The Princess drew in a long, slow breath, as if she were trying to draw up strength from the ground beneath her feet. Her gaze remained level.

“We are at war, Moomintroll,” she said. “I know it perhaps doesn’t feel like it, but we are. If we have any hope of getting to the end of this, we must separate ourselves now. Before things get worse.”

The first crack in her voice opened up like a fault line, and she struggled to cover it. She cleared her throat and drew herself up, all formality, as if she were addressing a crowd in her courtyard rather than her closest childhood friend.

“So no more letters. No more meetings. It’s the only way.” 

Moomintroll stood stunned. He could hear what the Princess was saying, but it felt distant and far-away, almost as if he were watching himself from the trees. The beating of his heart had gone from a wrenching thud to a fluttering panic. 

“What changed?” he asked, anxiously wringing his paws. “It was never like this before. We always had our meetings, even after the war began, and—”

“Moomintroll, _please,”_ The Princess begged. Her tail lashed behind her. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be—”

“Snork found out,” Moomintroll said. “Didn’t he?”

Snorkmaiden’s eyes screwed shut, and she breathed in slowly. When she spoke again, her voice was very, very small. 

“I can't say any more,” she murmured. She opened her eyes, and Moomintroll noticed they were glimmering with tears. “Just go. I’m sorry.”

Moomintroll stepped forward again, and reached towards her.

“Snorkmaiden,” said Moomintroll, fighting to keep his voice level. “Please. I can go up to see Snork, I can negotiate with him myself if I have to.” Deep down, he was well aware that such a tactic could only turn out badly for all involved - but he was desperate, and growing more so by the second. “We don’t have to stop seeing each other, we can just…” 

He trailed off. The truth was that he simply didn’t _know_ \- he didn’t know how all of this had swept through so quickly, how their childhoods had come to a crashing end, innocence stolen and carried away by the tide. 

“Please,” he implored.

Snorkmaiden stared as Moomintroll approached. Her posture tightened, almost bristling, and her ears flipped back against her head.

“I said leave,” she pressed. Moomintroll watched in horror as her paw closed around the hilt of her axe, drawing it out of the sheath on her shoulders. “Leave, before I make you.”

Moomintroll’s gaze darted from the weapon and up towards her again.

“Seriously?” he choked out. He gestured up towards the axe. _“This_ is your solution? You’re going to threaten me?”

Snorkmaiden shifted the weight of the axe, her second paw gripping it steadily.

“Moomintroll—”

Moomintroll felt the sorrow in his heart turn to anger.

“You’d rather fight me than fight _for_ me, is that it? Scare me into running from you?”

The Princess said nothing. Moomintroll anticipated her silence, but was still furious when it came. He stepped forward.

"What are you going to do, then?” he asked, throwing up his paws. “Hurt me? Kill me?”

“Two choices, Moomintroll,” the Princess replied, straightening herself. “Leave, or draw your sword!”

Moomintroll let out a bitter laugh. He fought back tears, watching as the very same woman who taught him to fight all those years ago chose to challenge him.

In theory, it would be a simple fight. They were an even match, her skill against his strength, and he was fairly certain he could defend himself against her. But perhaps he could ignite a memory or two, make her see sense - make her realise just how hard he was willing to fight to keep her.

“All right,” he said. In one swift movement, his paw gripped the handle of his sword. He drew it upwards from its scabbard with a metallic _shing._ “Fine. Let’s do it.”

For a moment, neither advanced. The forest stilled, as if holding its breath in anticipation. 

Snorkmaiden moved first. 

It was subtle, a shift in weight to gather momentum before her body surged forward, closing the distance between them in half a second. Weapons swung and slammed into each other with a resounding screech that sent vibrations shaking through the metal.

Moomintroll responded in kind, digging the heel of one boot into the earth behind him and pushing up against her force.

“Who taught you how to focus your energy like that?” the Princess huffed, straining as she pushed against his weight. “Must’ve been someone smart, and quick, and terribly beautiful!”

She suddenly dropped the paw closest to the head of her axe, the weight plunging it towards the ground. Moomintroll’s blade screeched along the metal with a moment of juddering tension, only to hook in the curve of her weapon, and he pushed back with enough strength to send her staggering. He drove forward and swung his sword with practiced ease, grimacing against the loud clash of their weapons. 

“It’s almost like we’re kids again, isn’t it?” she cried breathlessly, lunging for him. “Except we’ve traded wood for metal!”

“Hah,” Moomintroll panted, grunting as the weapons pulled apart. He pivoted on his heel, gripping his sword tighter in his grasp and meeting her axe again. “Yeah. How _nostalgic.”_

The cost of fighting one’s teacher, of course, came in that Snorkmaiden knew each of his weaknesses. She picked them out one by one to her advantage - his slight imbalance when he stepped back on his left foot, the strength he lacked in rotating his non-dominant wrist, his susceptibility to fatigue. It didn’t take long for her to have him breathless. 

Lungs burning, Moomintroll pushed forward against her axe until it felt like they’d been fighting for hours. He’d always had the option to back down when they’d been practicing, and she’d stop with a single word. But now, backing down meant losing her.

Moomintroll strode forward, pushing her further into the grove. He let out a strangled cry, and wasn’t sure if it came from a place of exertion or pain until he felt his vision go blurry.

He charged again, and she effortlessly diverted the swing of his sword, their blades clashing, sending a small explosion of sparks up into the darkening sky. Her tail lashed, and they circled one another in the glade. 

She exhaled heavily, shaking her head. 

“Only you could give us such a send-off,” she murmured. “You're still so stubborn. It makes for a good King, I suppose.”

_Send off?_

Moomintroll stepped backwards, and Snorkmaiden took the opportunity to swing at him again. They parried; once, twice, three times, before his arms began to ache and the tears started spilling. He pushed her off with a gasp, dropping his blade to the ground. His chest heaved.

“I yield,” he rasped, and just like that it was over.

The Princess stumbled back, clasping her axe in one paw, drawing the other across her eyes. They stood in the agony of near-silence, gulping and shuddering as they attempted to catch their breath. Moomintroll hardly had the air in his lungs to beg.

“Snorkmaiden,” he murmured. “Don’t do this. Please.”

He watched, hopelessly, as Snorkmaiden strode away from him and mounted her steed. He longed to reach out to her, to pull her into one last hug, but he supposed she knew as well as he did that he’d be unable to let go. 

“I’m sorry, Moomintroll,” she said. “I love you.” 

Pulling hard on the reins, she steered and rode into the woods without looking back. Moomintroll staggered forward, tears blinding his vision, and took off down the path at a run. 

“Snorkmaiden—! Snorkmaiden, no, please, don’t go, don’t— don’t leave me!” he shouted. He tripped on an outward root and stumbled, his breath catching in his lungs, and he pushed past his exhaustion to sprint after her.

“I’ll never forgive you!” he warned. “I swear! As long as I live, I—”

The boar was too fast for him, the Princess urging her steed into a gallop. Moomintroll’s chest burned, his eyes stinging as he slowed to a stop and sank to his knees, sobbing miserably.

“... I love you too.”

###### 

\- ONE YEAR LATER -

High up in the west wing of the Moomin Castle, Prince Moomintroll lay entangled in sleep.

His dream was a recurring one. Nestled in the far-off reaches of his memory, Moomintroll saw the Princess Snorkmaiden as she dashed between the hedges of the Moomin Castle gardens. He caught glimpses of golden hair tossed over her shoulder, heard echoes of bright laughter as she shouted to him. He turned a corner, green leaves just brushing his waist, and the Princess slipped from his sight once more. 

“Snorkmaiden!” he called, and hurried after her. “Wait for me!”

He heard her laugh again, and saw the way her dress billowed out behind her. There was a flash of gold, the ring she always wore on her ankle when she walked barefoot. She was so close to being within reach - she always was, in this dream. 

He would only need to stretch a little further.

“Your Highness!”

Moomintroll was wrenched from his slumber by the sudden, pitched voice of Mrs Fillyjonk, his governess. She broke unceremoniously into the silence of his room, her heels clicking on the floor as she strode with great purpose to the window. He watched her silhouette through the sheer canopy he’d drawn around his own bed, but they were no match for the bright afternoon sun when she yanked back the window curtains. 

Mrs. Fillyjonk had worked for the royal Moomins for many years: first as a household assistant, then a nanny when Moomintroll was born, and finally his governess, handling the parts of his education that Moomintroll’s mother felt needed a more orderly paw than her own. Order was certainly Mrs. Fillyjonk’s way, above everything else; order and cleanliness, and today she was to wrangle the young Prince into as much order as he could possibly take.

“It is _three o’clock!”_ Mrs Fillyjonk snapped, and Moomintroll blinked into the bright light as she began tying the canopy. “You have an engagement tonight and you haven’t _begun_ to make yourself presentable! Up! Up!”

Moomintroll groaned. He felt a thudding in the very back of his head, hardly caring what time it was. He _had_ attempted to get up before noon, but the thought of what lay ahead of him had made him bury himself quite literally beneath the covers.

The dreaded Spring Gala. The biggest event in the Moomin calendar, the arrival of spring itself to the hills and valleys, the thawing of the snow and the promise of warmth. It all sounded rather nice, but to the Prince and heir of the Moomin throne, the Spring Gala was an evening of responsibility, appearances, and wretched _socialising._ He was required to be happy at all times, pleasant at all times, light in conversation and light-footed when he danced. He was expected to drink a little but not imbibe too much, to charm the guests but not seduce, to flash a grin here and there to show a youthful and jovial nature. Put on a show for them. 

Hah - a decent show he would be now, he thought, still in bed at three o’clock. 

“Mrs Fillyjonk…” he whined, rolling onto his back and pulling the covers up. “I feel terribly ill - go and fetch Mamma, won’t you? Please. I think I might have influenza.”

He added a cough, for good measure.

Mrs Fillyjonk regarded him with beady eyes, long enough to make him fidget uncomfortably under her steely gaze. 

With a huff, she lifted her paw. Moomintroll flinched, knowing what was coming next. A pale blue glow illuminated Mrs Fillyjonk’s fingers, and a beam of light trailed up Moomintroll's body, scanning him from head to toe. It didn't feel like much of anything, except that it made his nose tickle. 

Fillyjonk magic - the only kind in the land which worked to detect illness and disease. Moomintroll’s flimsy excuse was no match for it, and he kicked himself for not thinking of something else.

"You are in perfectly good health," Mrs Fillyjonk concluded, dispelling the magic. Moomintroll scratched his snout. “Enough with the silly games. You are a Prince, and you must learn to behave as such.”

Moomintroll coughed weakly again, as if it might help, and sat up on his elbows. 

“Yes - well - I hardly think it’s appropriate for you to speak to me like that,” he replied, narrowing his eyes. “Considering you’ve been hired to look after me. A little sympathy wouldn’t go amiss, either.”

Mrs Fillyjonk was unperturbed. She stared at him for a moment before pressing both paws to her hips. 

“I have been ‘looking after you’ since you were but a pup in swaddling clothes, Prince Moomintroll,” she huffed. “You may think yourself high and mighty now, but all disobedient children begin life the same way. Screaming and incontinent.”

Moomintroll frowned. He watched as Mrs Fillyjonk strode back towards the door.

“Now, up you get,” she said, her paw closing around the doorknob. “The Spring Gala awaits.”

She gave him one last look, her steely gaze sweeping up and down his form. 

“Unless you would prefer to attend in your nightclothes.”

The door was pulled closed with a brisk slam, enough to make Moomintroll jump a little. He rolled his eyes, twiddling his paws in his lap. 

Mrs. Fillyjonk was an insufferable busybody who didn’t understand the complexities of being a Prince - Moomintroll knew that well enough. It was what stopped him from taking all of her meddling to heart. How could _she,_ a Fillyjonk governess, comprehend the strain and stress of carrying the very crown that held the Kingdom up? The Queen - Moomintroll’s beloved Mamma - was the only person in the world who understood such a thing. 

Sighing, Moomintroll climbed out of bed and stretched, attempting to pull himself from drowsiness. A dull discomfort settled in his chest as he surveyed the room.

His chambers consisted of the bedroom and washroom together, situated in the west wing of the Moomin Castle. It had been his room since he had moved out of the nursery at five, and held every precious thing and far-off memory the Prince could call his own. It was painted in Moomintroll’s favourite colour - a light blue, like the morning sky - and the centrepiece of the room was the curtained four-poster bed, pressed against the eastern wall. 

Today, however, it was hardly the orderly residence of a young royal. Loose papers, open books and creased clothes lay strewn across the floor, the housekeepers having not had a chance to clean with him in bed for most of the day. He still felt as heavy as a statue on his feet, blinking idly as he stared into nothingness.

The only thing that motivated him to move, in the end, was his bladder.

When he emerged from the washroom, the room had been somewhat tidied and an outfit laid out across the blankets of his bed. He breathed a sigh, lifting the towel to rub behind his ears with one paw as he attempted to pull his trousers on with the other. Formal clothing had so many _fastenings._

Finally, he stood back, and caught sight of himself in the mirror. He wore the traditional colours of spring - a light yellow shirt and trousers of robin’s egg blue, tailored perfectly to the dimensions of his body. There was a slight embroidery around the collar of his shirt, a line of entwining blue and lilac threads. Moomintroll wondered if his mother had sewn that in herself. 

There was a knock at the door, and Moomintroll’s ears perked towards it. 

“Hello, dear,” came the Queen’s gentle voice. “Are you dressed? I’ve brought you a little something.”

Moomintroll smiled - genuinely, for the first time that day. “Yes, Mamma,” he called. “You can come in.”

The Queen entered, sweeping through the doorway like a pleasant breeze. Despite the heavy responsibility of the crown, Moomintroll found that his mother never had any trouble smiling with sincerity.

“Oh, look at you!” she cooed, stepping forward to close the short distance between them. She reached out and lightly traced the embroidery on his shirt. “You’re a picture.”

Moomintroll hummed. “I wish I felt like it.”

“I know,” the Queen murmured, her paw lifting to cup his cheek instead. “I know you’d rather be anywhere else but here tonight. But thank you for humouring tradition.” She drew back, and Moomintroll noticed that she clasped a small velvet box in her other paw. 

She spoke of _tradition,_ a word that had become more and more of a weight on Moomintroll the older he got. Tradition carried with it so many rules, so many little considerations and expectations, and Moomintroll found the prospect of dissension rather more exciting. 

But dissenting proved tricky, when he loved his mother so.

“It’s as I’ve told you,” he shrugged. “As long as there’s a banquet, I’ll be all right.”

The Queen chuckled warmly, reaching up to rub the fur between his ears. “I was just like you, when I was younger. Wondering why we had to do this and that…” 

She held the box in one paw and opened it with the other, holding it out towards Moomintroll. Nestled inside was a small, silver brooch, the metal twisted like the stems of a flower, with pearls fashioned delicately into the drooping petals of a snowdrop.

Moomintroll gazed at it, his eyes widening. He looked up at his mother, who smiled so brightly that her eyes crinkled at the corners. 

“For me?” he asked.

The Queen nodded. She reached for a cloak that was neatly folded on the end of her bed, passing it to Moomintroll and gesturing for him to put it on. 

“I always admired snowdrops for their resilience,” she said. “How they push through the earth despite biting cold.”

Moomintroll lifted the golden cloak around his shoulders, pulling his paws together at his sternum. Mamma fastened it to his chest with the brooch, and turned him carefully by the shoulders to look in the mirror. 

“I would like you to know that you are always free to think for yourself,” she murmured. Her paw curled into the fabric of the cloak, squeezing his shoulder. “Now or in the future. Even when things feel very difficult indeed.”

Moomintroll watched the way his mother regarded him, and attempted to improve his posture in his reflection. To the untrained eye, he looked every inch the dashing young prince - but it hardly mattered given how thoroughly unprepared he felt. 

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” he murmured. “Never has been. It’s everyone else - Pappa, Mrs. Fillyjonk, all the lords and ladies. The citizens, too, they all have their own perception of me. I should be happy with it all, being so popular. But it just makes me feel…”

He looked down, felt the constriction of the belt around his waist, all the elaborate fastenings of his garments pulling inwards.

“Like I’m being squashed.”

The Queen nodded understandingly, her arm moving to wrap around Moomintroll’s waist. He sank against her side.

“No decisions need to be made just yet,” she replied. “There will always be another Spring Gala.” She smiled, and turned Moomintroll back towards her to fix the brooch to his chest. “I should know. I met my love down by the docks, stinking of seaweed and fish and coming off a ship for the first time in months. And now he’s a King.” 

Moomintroll took in a deep breath. He looked up at her, and managed a weak smile.

“Thank you, Mamma.”

###### 

The Spring Gala represented the turning in the year from the grey of winter towards the brilliance of summer; a great shift in the earth’s pattern where the land was blessed with blossoming warmth and light. The days grew longer, the nights less oppressive, and twilight stretched out like a comfortable blanket of blue stars. 

Moomintroll stepped into the ballroom alongside his parents, announced to the room of esteemed guests with a hearty fanfare. The royal family arrived last, as per tradition, and Moomintroll felt the keen eyes of the crowd burning into him. 

The ballroom itself was vast, with white marbled pillars rising from the bottom of the floor to meet and arch as they climbed up towards the ceiling. A large window adorned the northernmost wall, graced either side with ornate white curtains, and twin tapestries with the Moomin family crest hung on the pillars either side of the top table. White was the Moomins’ colour, as it always had been, to set them apart from the purple Hemulens and colour-changing Snorks. The crest itself bore two Moomins mirrored between a tall, blue podium, with the sun itself resting just a few inches above the top. Two olive branches were curled towards the base of the crest, with the Moomins’ tails entwined - the perfect symbol of a Moomin’s honour and loyalty.

What changed the ballroom from its usual appearance, however, was the total abundance of flowers; huge bouquets of white roses and yellow daffodils and pink tulips, and all other kinds of blooms that Moomintroll had scarcely learned the names of. They exploded in quiet affection around the room, soft as a blush, singing of the season’s arrival. 

As Moomintroll followed his parents towards the top table, he also caught sight of the one thing that had convinced him to go along with the entire affair - the food. There were steamed vegetables and pots of stew and fried fish laden across the banquet tables, so mouth-watering that he could almost hear them calling to him. 

The family stepped up the small platform, and a number of finely-dressed servants pulled out each of their chairs for them to sit down. At his own request, Moomintroll had been sat between his parents - but quite worryingly, this meant that he was in the direct centre of the table itself. 

If all eyes hadn’t been on him before, they were now.

A pin could have dropped in the silence that accompanied the royal family’s entrance, but once they were settled, a polite hubbub started up once again. Moomintroll breathed a sigh, and wondered how it might feel to walk into a room without being noticed at all.

Chatter filled the quiet spaces in the vast ballroom, and the soft strains of a viola began playing. One by one, other notes flowed into the melody like streams feeding a river, and soon an ocean of music crested around the room.

The meal began in earnest. Moomintroll took an entirely unreasonable amount of food, convinced that it might distract him from his social duties for a considerable portion of the evening. Over the sounds of his own chewing, Moomintroll vaguely registered that his mother was addressing him.

“What was that, Mamma?” he asked, mouth full.

“Do you feel like dancing tonight?” the Queen replied. “I’ve been told we’ll have a few new songs - brought up from the south. Bright, quick little things. Very good to move to.”

He looked up, scanning the crowd. There must have been two-hundred or more sitting around the gilded tables, each one of them uniquely privileged in being able to dine and entertain themselves with the Queen, her King, and her blue-eyed little Prince. 

Princess Snorkmaiden always adored functions like this, much to Moomintroll’s chagrin - but with her, they had never seemed like much of a chore. No matter how dull the company or stuffy the room, Snorkmaiden would captivate everyone with such a palpable happiness that it was impossible for Moomintroll not to enjoy himself, in the end. As soon as she spotted the tell-tale signs of his boredom or disinterest, she would emerge from the dances with a drink in her paw, and divulge some scandalous secret about one of the lords or ladies until Moomintroll was red-faced with suppressed laughter. 

She made everything better - that was just in her nature.

Tapping the side of his cup with his fingertips, Moomintroll contemplated what the Princess might have had to say on a night like this. 

Perhaps she’d tell him, _you could have anyone in this room if you wanted. Why don’t you try your luck?_

_Because I don’t want to,_ Moomintroll would have replied. _I’m just here for the food._

And what marvellous food it was, he considered, as he speared a roasted parsnip and lifted it to his mouth. 

_But they’re all looking at you,_ Snorkmaiden would continue. She never was one to back down without a fight, that was certain. _Even if you’re not interested, they don’t have to know that. You could keep them guessing. Have some fun._

Moomintroll lifted his cup, taking a deep sip of a sharp red wine, and when he lowered it back to the table he caught someone’s gaze. A young Moominmaiden in a pale blue dress, a circle of flowers laid carefully between her ears. He gave her a charming smile.

“Dunno yet,” he said to the Queen. “Ask me after dinner.”

Within the hour, the sun had set, the candlelight glowing brightly from sconces and chandeliers. The music swelled in rhythm, encouraging everyone to their feet, and the first of many dances swept the guests onto the centre floor. All the while, attentions were half-focused on the top table and the family who sat there. Most were either too polite or too nervous to approach, and instead waited patiently for their opportunity.

Others struck while the iron was hot.

Moomintroll watched the Moominmaiden in the blue dress gather the fabric in her paws, approaching him and his parents as they stepped onto the dance floor.

“Good evening,” she said, with a practiced elegance. She _was_ addressing the three of them, but her eyes were rooted solely on Moomintroll. “Please accept my humble thanks for the invitation to the Gala.” Her gaze swept briefly over Moomintroll, before lifting back to his eyes with a somewhat giddy smile. “Your brooch is stunning.”

Moomintroll offered her a bow, inclining his head, before glancing downwards at the brooch. 

“Oh, yes,” he nodded. “Thank you. It was a gift from the Queen.”

He looked back towards his mother, smiling proudly, before reaching his paw out towards the girl. As much as he might not have wanted to be there, he knew the way these things worked - and he knew exactly when to ignite his charm.

“What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Lady Lumi, your Highness,” she replied, carefully slipping her paw into his. She eyed the brooch again, seemingly transfixed by the shimmering pearls. 

“Lumi?” Moomintroll repeated. “I’m sure you know that means ‘light’ in the old Moomin language.” Those ancient Moomin lessons from Mr. Hemulen were finally paying off, he thought. “It’s a beautiful name. Your parents chose well.”

His name was just Moomintroll, the same as any prince or princess of a kingdom like his. He didn’t mind it - he’d grown into it, at least - but on some level he found it terribly boring. He wouldn’t be named after sunlight or flowers or any other interesting thing. His name was his responsibility, just like everything else.

“Thank you,” Lumi smiled. She reached up with her other paw and placed it gently over Moomintroll’s, turning her attention to the King and Queen. “Your Highnesses, may I have the honour of a dance with Prince Moomintroll?”

“Of course,” the Queen replied, giving Moomintroll a reassuring smile. “So long as he’ll have you.”

Regardless of the Queen’s words, Moomintroll knew that whatever he wanted didn’t necessarily matter. If he turned Lumi down, he would appear aloof, strange, antisocial. It would get around that the Prince was being picky, and heavens forbid he chose to dance with anyone else if not with her. She’d spend the whole night wondering what she did wrong.

“Why, yes,” he replied, the natural answer. He smiled at her, warm and inviting, and held his paw out for her to take.

Some time later, after _several_ more dances than Lady Lumi had originally asked him for, she curtsied and hurried away to fetch them each a drink. Her absence left the Prince open to a young Fillyjonk, who adjusted his cravat and approached the second he saw Moomintroll alone.

“Prince Moomintroll,” he began, with a genteel incline of his head. “How lovely it is to see you, your Highness. There is no better place to celebrate the coming of spring than the Moomin Kingdom, wouldn’t you agree?”

Moomintroll knew that a Fillyjonk, like any non-Moomin creature, would have to work twice as hard to win the attention of an heir to the throne. It was not unheard of for a non-Moomin to marry into the Moomin royal family - Moomintroll’s own great-great grandfather had been Hemulen - but it happened only once in a blue moon. There were those amongst the Moomins who believed that a non-Moomin marriage would strengthen the throne, and those who believed it would weaken it. Moomintroll himself didn’t have a preference either way.

In fact, that wasn’t strictly true: his preference would be not to marry at all.

“Oh - good evening,” he said to the Fillyjonk, only paying attention to roughly half of what he said. The Fillyjonk seemed charming - almost too charming. “Yes, I suppose so. The snow sometimes lingers, but… my mother always makes things merry nonetheless.”

“That she does,” the Fillyjonk concurred. He tucked his paws behind his back as he stood beside Moomintroll, eyeing the crowd as if he were watching for opponents to steer the Prince away from. “Such things are important. Some may consider an event like the Gala to be a mere frivolity, but… I believe it is all quite needed.”

Moomintroll blinked. “How do you mean?”

“Well,” said the Fillyjonk, “With everything going on - the Kingdom must put on a brave face.” He leaned in towards Moomintroll, his voice dropping. “The war, I mean.”

Moomintroll’s jaw tightened. He nodded slowly, noncommittally. “Ah… yes, yes,” he said. “The Queen, she… wouldn’t like us to be too dismayed.”

“Certainly not,” came the Fillyjonk’s quick response. “If you don’t mind my saying so, your Highness, King Snork would hardly have such insight into current events as your mother. And as for that Princess, well—”

Moomintroll suddenly decided that he _did_ mind. He minded very much indeed. 

“I’m sorry,” he interjected. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name.”

He held out a paw, and the Fillyjonk’s eyes widened.

“Oh - forgive my informalities, your Highness,” He took Moomintroll’s paw lightly in his own, dipping his head in a slight bow. “My name is Adalwin. I have been studying Hemulic politics for some time, now, and the inner workings of the local kingdoms are of great interest to me—”

“Who’s this?”

Lumi had returned without Moomintroll even noticing, and he disguised the way he jumped with a quiet cough.

“Ah! Lady Lumi, there you are,” he said brightly, resting his free paw gently on her shoulder. He inclined his head towards the Fillyjonk. “Have you been introduced to Adalwin yet, this evening?”

Lumi simply lifted a brow. She passed Moomintroll one of the drinks she had carried over, and obligingly shook Adalwin’s paw.

“Forgive the intrusion, my lady,” Adalwin chuckled, dipping his head. “It was an honour talking to you, your Highness. I am sure we will meet again in the future.”

Moomintroll exhaled deeply as Adalwin made his departure, sweeping across the ballroom towards some other unsuspecting individual. The mere mention of Snorkmaiden had made his head start to hurt.

“Either way, your Highness, where was I?” Lumi went on, rather oblivious of Moomintroll’s absent expression. “I was telling you about our summer cottage on one of the islands to the west. Do you have anything like that?” 

Moomintroll glanced upwards, before lifting his cup to his mouth and taking another sip. He pursed his lips and swirled the liquid around - plum wine, he was sure of it.

Princess Snorkmaiden always found plum wine to be a little _too_ sweet. As she’d often told him, nothing in the room was permitted to be sweeter than her. He was inclined to agree.

“A few,” he replied. “But they all belong to my mother, and the Moomin Kingdom is quite small.” He smiled back at her. “We've got some nice beaches, though.”

“Beaches!” Lumi’s eyes danced. “My family owns a pawful of the islands just off the coast. Of course, I mean, it all rightfully belongs to your mother and we’re just paying the taxes, but semantics!” She giggled, taking another mouthful of wine. 

She began leading him across the room, toward the large window and the tapestries on either side, the music from the small orchestra getting louder as they approached. Moomintroll had little choice but to follow her.

“I should like to see you again after this is all over,” she murmured, her grey ears bashfully tilting back. “I’m having a lovely time…”

A cold trickle crept down Moomintroll’s spine. Of course this girl wanted to see him again, she and her beautiful dress and ‘pawful’ of islands. He suspected that she’d stop at nothing to become a future queen. 

“Ah, yes,” Moomintroll said, with a laugh that he hoped didn’t sound too nervous. “Well, of course, I’m sure we’ll…”

He cast his gaze aside, looking up towards the orchestra. There was a Moomin on the harp, a Fillyjonk on the pan flute, a Hemulen rhythmically banging an imposing-looking drum, and… a Fuzzy on the lute.

_Wait a minute._

Moomintroll took Lumi’s paws. “My lady… can you excuse me for just one moment?” 

He smiled at her earnestly before slinking away, down towards the platform where the band was playing. They were taking a break between songs, wiping their brows and rearranging music, and each of them gave a nod or greeting of “Your Highness,” as he passed through them. However, he was only interested in talking to one.

“Sniff?” he said incredulously. “What… what are you doing?!”

The young Fuzzy appeared to be studying the sheet music, but in a way that gave the impression that he was trying to parse what exactly he was looking at rather than rehearsing the next song. Even after the line of greetings stopped at him, he didn’t notice Moomintroll’s presence until he was addressed directly. 

“Oh! Hi, Moomintroll - fancy meeting you here.” He hardly paid the Prince any mind, reaching the sheet music and holding it up to him. "Does this look upside down? I think it rather looks upside down to me."

He lifted his gaze, up to where Lumi was impatiently waiting just out of earshot.

“Oh - _oh,_ I see what happened,” he said, leaning in and giving Moomintroll a wink. “One distraction coming right up. Listen to this!” It seemed almost too genuine to be a distraction, his fingers plucking a series of notes before uttering a quick ‘wait’, or ‘nope’, or ‘let me try again - from the top this time’ before starting over.

“Sniff, Sniff - _no!”_

Moomintroll realised slightly too late that he was starting to raise his voice, and he instead placed a paw on Sniff’s shoulder in an attempt to steer the Fuzzy behind a nearby pillar. 

“What are you doing here?” he hissed. He gestured up and down, “Like… like _this?_ You can’t even play a musical instrument! How in the world did you get in the band?!”

Somehow, Moomintroll knew that Sniff would not be able to provide any kind of reasonable answer. In fact, Sniff’s ‘answers’ often presented more questions than they ever solved.

“All I did was ask,” Sniff shrugged. “You’d be surprised what you can get if you just ask. What’s the worst they’ll say? No?” 

The Hemulen on the drum beside him let out a heavy sigh. 

“Anyway, I’ve been doing pretty good, don’t you think?” Sniff went on, fixing a paw confidently on his hip. “No complaints yet. Pretty sure I could run this thing by myself before tomorrow. How much do people usually pay to see a one man band?” He tilted his head, lightly scratching the fur on his cheek. “Suppose I could travel. If you wouldn’t miss me too much.”

Moomintroll sputtered. “One man b— Sniff, are you serious? Don’t tell me this is one of your new ventures.”

He had hoped that Sniff might have dropped the idea of becoming a world-famous bard after he realised he could whistle a tune - but alas, the situation appeared to have worsened. 

“Look, just—” Moomintroll lifted a paw to his forehead in exasperation. “Just try not to cause too much trouble, all right?”

“I dunno, I might have to be the one keeping _you_ out of trouble, right?” Sniff teased, nudging Moomintroll with his elbow. Lady Lumi was still watching them. 

Moomintroll resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Sniff held up both paws only for the lute to nearly slide out of his lap, and he caught it with an awkward twang. 

“No trouble then!” he said quickly. “Promise.” He leaned in again, narrowing his eyes at the sheet music. “I still think this might be upside down…”

“Break a leg,” Moomintroll muttered.

The orchestra started up again, the crowd started moving, and Moomintroll was swept up in it all most unwillingly. Lumi fought for his attention for another half an hour or so, and no sooner had he shook her off was he being approached in all directions by a steady stream of guests.

There were parents, keen to introduce their children to the heir of the throne; singletons eager for a chance to impress the eligible Prince; there were the career politicians, the socialites, those looking to stamp the Royal seal into their little black books, and Moomintroll quickly began to forget names as they were reeled off to him. Towards the end of the night, he wearily made his way back to the top table and sat down next to the King.

His legs ached from standing, his jaw ached from talking, and his ears rang from listening. It was, he thought ruefully, no different to any other Spring Gala.

“Pappa,” he sighed, reaching for something to drink. A member of the household staff appeared seemingly from nowhere, refilling his cup. “May I be excused? I’m getting a headache.”

“Excused?” His father exclaimed, his eyes widening. “Why, it isn’t even ten o’clock yet!” 

Moomintroll groaned, and the King reached out to slap him rather roughly between the shoulders. 

“Whatever happened to that lovely Moominmaiden you’ve been chatting with all night, hmm? I thought you two were hitting it off splendidly.”

Moomintroll gave his father a rather flat look. “Which Moominmaiden, Pappa? The one who I could tell was only interested in me for my money, or the one who I could tell was only interested in me for my status?”

Pappa lifted a paw. “All right… how about gentlemen, then?”

Moomintroll’s eyes glazed over. 

“Oh, certainly, there have been plenty,” he drawled. “How about the Fillyjonk who thought running down the Snorks would put him in my good graces? And who can forget the fellow who decided to touch my _leg_ when he sat next to me? Absolutely charming, the lot of them.”

He lifted his chalice up to his mouth, downing half of the contents in a single swig.

The King seemed oblivious, murmuring to himself and scanning the crowd. When he finally looked back at Moomintroll, he practically did a double take.

“Look, son,” he started carefully. “There isn’t always going to be a plethora of ideal choices. But we’re living in sensitive times, and… well, I want you to be _safe,_ that’s all. The kingdom’s been at war for longer than we should be comfortable with. Strengthening our own is a key priority.”

Moomintroll’s mouth fell open. He felt a twist of anger deep within, despite his father’s obviously good intentions.

“What?” he asked, incredulous. “You’re seriously trying to tell me that I should consider marrying on a whim because we’re at _war?”_

“Son—”

“It’s my entire life, Pappa!” Moomintroll went on. “I want to be married to someone I love, or else I won’t marry at all!” He rubbed his temples with the paw that wasn’t clutching his cup. “I don’t have any control over what happens to me! None! And now you’re telling me that I have to—”

The room was silent. A single cough could be heard towards the back, and Moomintroll realised with seeping unease that he’d been shouting. His ears began to burn.

He cleared his throat. “My deepest apologies,” he said to the crowd. “As you were.”

“Right!” Came Sniff’s voice from the opposite end of the room. “And a-one, and a-two, and a-one-two-three—”

As soon as the chatter and music started up again, Moomintroll stood up and jabbed a finger at his father. “I’m going to bed, and you can’t stop me.”

“Moomintroll,” the King began. Moomintroll ignored him, brushing past and striding out of the ballroom as fast as his legs could take him.

He ensured he was far enough away to be out of earshot of anyone significant, and then he lifted his head up to the ceiling and let out a drawn-out whine of frustration.

A quick right turn and a flight of stairs led him up to the west wing, and with every step he was more and more looking forward to being in bed. He never should have left it. 

“Nobody understands me!” he grumbled to thin air. “Marriage, indeed - Pappa is _such_ a—” 

He could see his chamber door at the end of the hallway, and strode towards it with all the energy left in his body. 

“Nobody wants to know _me._ They just want to know Prince Moomintroll, heir of the Moomin Kingdom,” he went on. “Well, I’m sick of it. And I shan’t be getting married because of some _stupid_ war that shouldn’t have even been started in the first place—!”

With an exasperated sigh, Moomintroll shoved open his chamber door and shut it very meaningfully behind him. He did not want visitors - not the house staff, nor his parents. He simply wanted to pull off all of his ridiculous clothes and go to sleep.

He couldn’t get out of them quickly enough, leaving them strewn on the edge of his bed and breathing out in relief. The only object he had any particular regard for was his mother’s brooch, which he laid very carefully on his bedside table.

Climbing into bed, Moomintroll rolled onto his side and let out a quiet breath as he settled down. Each conversation spun around in his head like a swarm of incessant flies, and he lifted a paw with a quiet grunt as if to shoo them away. They refused to budge.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Moomintroll tried as hard as he could to focus on nice things, just like his Mamma always told him to. He thought about the springtime, the rolling of the ocean and the babbling of the stream running through the forest. The stream ran all the way from the mountains in the North to the coast, and passed first through the Moomin Kingdom before running down through the Snork Kingdom and branching in tributaries towards the sea. The Snork Kingdom had only ever been half a day’s ride away, but now it was further than it had ever been - and furthest of all was the Princess.

Moomintroll huffed through his nose. He stretched, his eyes fluttering open for just a second.

The second was long enough for him to catch a glimpse of something clinging to the ceiling. 

The Prince’s eyes snapped open, and with horror he realised it was a _monster,_ just like those he had always feared the darkness for - with sharp claws and eyes of glaring amber. 

The monster lifted a taloned paw, one finger outstretched.

“Don’t—”

Moomintroll screamed.


	2. A Mage and a Half

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it happens, the monster in Prince Moomintroll’s room is no monster at all - but a Mumrik going by the name of Snufkin, who infiltrated the Moomin Castle with ease. Moomintroll quickly realises that Snufkin may prove useful - and the two strike a deal, just in time for a disobliging new arrival to take her place in the court and affront the young Prince’s sensibilities…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW hey how's everyone doing tonight ha ha ready for some more HIGH FANTASY??? oh of course you are
> 
> despite both of us working our Whole Asses off irl we're really pleased with how this one came out! there's... way too much chaos in here already and we're only on chapter 2
> 
> onwards...

The scream that had instinctively spilled from Moomintroll’s throat dried up like a snuffed-out candle. The monster leapt from the ceiling and swung down, eyes as bright as wild flame, and Moomintroll lifted a paw to clutch at his throat with heightening panic. He screamed again. 

Despite the feeling of his voice being pushed up from his chest, nothing but air emerged. His throat began to hurt in an empty way, as if he were being throttled by a ghost. 

The monster clicked two fingers, and above their paw blossomed a ball of soft yellow light. Moomintroll’s gaze shifted from the light and back to the creature, and it was then that he realised that this was no monster at all. 

They were a _person,_ a thief or rogue of some kind, who had crept into the castle and stolen his ability to speak. 

“Please, calm yourself,” they implored. Moomintroll did the opposite.

With a silent yell, he leapt forward and tackled the rogue where they sat. They swiftly pushed back, claws poking into his fur, but they were ultimately no match for Moomintroll’s heavy strength. He flipped them over, straddling them and pinning their paws to the mattress. The ball of magic light tumbled from their grasp and rolled silently onto the floor.

 _What have you done to my voice?!_ Moomintroll mouthed desperately.

“It will wear off,” they said quickly. “It won’t hurt you.” Their brow pinched, and they tilted their head as they attempted to decipher what Moomintroll was mouthing. “What… what was that?”

Moomintroll took in a deep breath. He opened his mouth again, shaping each word. 

_Bring. It. Back._

The rogue flexed their paws, slender fingers curling, and Moomintroll caught sight of the sharp claws they possessed.

“I need you to promise me that you won’t start crying for the guards,” they said. “This will not be easy for either of us if you do.”

Moomintroll scowled. If this person was here to kill him, well… he’d already pinned them down, and there was a dagger in his bedside drawer. Calling guards wasn’t necessary; he was more than capable of defending himself. 

_Deal,_ he mouthed. The rogue nodded in return. 

Drawing in a breath, they whispered an incantation in a language Moomintroll could not recognise. The effect was like pulling a board from a dammed stream.

“Right,” he said, gently rubbing his neck. “Thank you.”

He gazed down at the intruder, still stuck under his paws, and regarded them carefully. They stared with keen, curved brown eyes that shimmered with a strange glow in the late evening’s half-darkness; a ring of amber around each pupil like flecks of misplaced sunset. They had messy, copper-brown hair that fell into their face in unkempt strands, and Moomintroll watched as they curled their bottom lip upwards to puff a stray lock out of their vision. 

They were strong, but not in the same bulky way that a Moomin would be; far more suited to running or climbing than heavier movement. Their nose was considerably smaller than any creature in the Hemulic family, and they bore no snout like a Fillyjonk.

Moomintroll had only ever heard of creatures like this one before. Creatures with wild eyes and lashing tails, quick and mischievous, who took no interest in the ordinary shape of the world. Their existence was shrouded in speculation and myth - and despite all of his necessary socialisation, Moomintroll had never come face-to-face with someone like this before. Yet, somehow, he knew exactly what they were.

A Mumrik.

“You are trespassing,” Moomintroll told them. 

“I am looking for something,” the Mumrik replied. Despite the restraint that Moomintroll held on their paws, their gaze remained steady.

“Who are you?” he demanded, and pressed down harder on the intruder’s wrists. “What’s your name? Your gender?”

The Mumrik’s hair fell stubbornly back into their eyes. They shifted, just a little, and blinked through dark eyelashes.

“My name is Snufkin, and I am male.”

Moomintroll clenched his jaw, letting out a sharp breath from his nostrils. “Well, Snufkin. Surely you understand whose chambers you have invaded, do you not?”

“Why, yes,” Snufkin nodded. “You are the Prince, you said so yourself.” He glanced towards the door. “Out there.”

Moomintroll hesitated. The rogue had heard him, all the way out in the hallway, and the thought of that was almost too mortifying to bear. His eyelid twitched. 

“You’re a thief,” he stated. 

Snufkin shook his head and chuckled. 

“No, no,” he said. “Your belongings are quite safe. I’ll even turn out my pockets if you wish.”

He tilted his head carefully, as if daring the Prince to contradict him. Moomintroll huffed, unhanded him, and then pointed to the floor. 

“There,” he said, pushing Snufkin away from the bed. “On the floor - and whatever’s in that pawbag, too.”

The Mumrik lifted a brow. “It’s a satchel, not a _pawbag._ But… very well.”

He emptied his pockets, as promised, and Moomintroll watched as a number of small items dropped onto the floor. There was a pipe and snuff-box, a tinder-box, and a dagger from a sheath on the Mumrik’s belt - Moomintroll picked up the last one, inspecting the slanted blade and carved wooden hilt. He wondered if it was the kind of weapon a Mumrik would use in battle, whoever the Mumriks might get themselves into battle with.

Snufkin opened the satchel and emptied the contents of that, too: a scroll of paper, quill and ink-pot, a length of rope, a small bag of coins and a hunk of half-eaten bread, wrapped in a cloth. Moomintroll stared at the pile.

“Is that all?” he asked.

Snufkin shrugged. “I travel light when I break into castles.”

Moomintroll tutted. He stepped around the objects, briefly bending down to inspect one or two of them, before he stood back up and folded his paws across his chest. Nothing _seemed_ stolen, or terribly dangerous - but then again, he had never met a Mumrik until now. Perhaps they were dangerous in other ways.

Snufkin stood before him, a few inches beneath him in height, and silently tucked his paws behind his back. He made no attempt to escape or attack, glancing up at Moomintroll as if he were waiting for the next instruction.

It was most peculiar.

Moomintroll cleared his throat, and then gestured flippantly for Snufkin to retrieve his things. The Mumrik knelt down and reached for the tinder-box in silence.

“What were you poking about in here for, anyway?” Moomintroll asked after a moment. “Looking for the crown jewels?”

“No,” Snufkin replied. He slipped the last item into his satchel and fastened it up. “I’m looking for books. Specifically spellbooks. I’m a mage.”

“This Kingdom _does_ have public libraries, you know,” said Moomintroll. 

“I know,” Snufkin nodded. “And I went to those first. But it’s a well-known fact that royal families always keep the very best books for themselves.”

Moomintroll felt suddenly incensed. He squared his shoulders, glaring at Snufkin, but the Mumrik appeared undaunted.

His eyes shifted over to his bookshelf. It was full almost to the brim with books he’d kept since childhood; poetry, stories, and his own diaries and musings, books on history and geography and science. But none about magic.

“Well… you’re in the wrong place. You won’t find any spellbooks in here.”

Perhaps Snufkin was lying, Moomintroll thought. A strange thing it would be, to be searching for magic tomes in a young prince’s chambers. 

“Besides…” he tilted his head. “If you’re a mage, as you say, don’t you have someone to work for?”

All the mages he knew prided themselves on having a place in a royal court, or some other high-standing part of society. Magic-users were in high demand for their skills, and Moomintroll hadn’t met a mage who didn’t easily find their place.

“I work alone,” Snufkin said simply. He rose from the floor, and straightened the satchel across his shoulder. “Far easier that way.”

Moomintroll raised a brow. “Right,” he intoned. “I see.”

For better or worse, this person was in his chambers. A self-professed mage, who was evidently talented enough to steal his way into a well-secured castle without detection, stood in the room as if he’d simply waltzed in through the door. Moomintroll’s annoyance gave way to pure curiosity, and from curiosity… he began to think. 

In the back of Moomintroll’s mind, an idea took seed; an idea so suddenly brilliant that it made the sour events of the Spring Gala pale into insignificance. Moomintroll’s head began to spin with possibility, and he fought back a triumphant smile. 

Snufkin had already snuck himself into one castle. There was nothing to say he couldn’t sneak into another.

“I suppose you didn’t make it to our library, then?” Moomintroll asked. 

Snufkin’s head lifted to meet his gaze. “I wasn’t able to find it,” he admitted. “Besides… the most valuable things are always locked up somewhere else.”

The rogue spoke as if this was far from being the first place he had broken into. He seemed unperturbed by his having been caught, as if he already knew that the Prince was inwardly devising a deal for his freedom.

One thing Moomintroll had learned from years of shadowing the Queen: to negotiate, one must first be generous.

He stepped out of bed and reached for his trousers, tucking his nightshirt into the waistband as he pulled them on.

“I’ll escort you to the library,” he said. “Nobody’s there at this time of night, and I suspect the librarian’s asleep. I will allow you to borrow a spellbook, in return for a favour.”

Snufkin’s brow lifted. 

“A favour, you say?” he asked. A smile played at his lips. “I suppose I could. Did you have something in mind?”

Moomintroll pulled on the boots he had left by the bed and laced them up, beckoning Snufkin to follow him towards the door. He briefly wondered whether he was making some kind of terrible mistake, but… this was a young mage, with no affiliations, who was light enough on his feet to sneak into a heavily-guarded castle.

He was just what Moomintroll needed.

Moomintroll opened the door and Snufkin stepped through, tucking his paws neatly behind his back. The Prince glanced up the length of the hallway, but it seemed that the guards were preoccupied with watching over the Spring Gala.

“Do you know of the Snork Kingdom?” he asked, as they began to walk. “It’s just slightly south of here. Might take you a few days on foot, but it’s close.”

Snufkin hummed. Moomintroll caught his gaze for just a moment, and the Mumrik lifted his eyes towards the ceiling with a touch of his paw against his chin. 

“I’m familiar,” he said. “You have some kind of… scuffle with them, do you not?”

Moomintroll balked. _“Scuffle?_ It’s a war!”

Snufkin looked almost amused. “It’s a very tidy war, in that case,” he said lightly. “No arrows flying anywhere, no bloodied battlefields…”

Moomintroll felt a swell of irritation within him. He huffed out heavily from his nostrils, crossing his arms. “Yes, well, I don’t expect someone of _your_ background to have any understanding of it.” 

Snufkin lifted his paws. “You’re right, I don’t. So… perhaps you might explain it to me?”

Moomintroll rolled his eyes. He felt himself grow weary from Snufkin’s lack of awareness - he supposed rogues really had no responsibility whatsoever, least of all in any manner of politics. 

“The Snork Kingdom is ruled by the King,” he began, as they started down the staircase. “He’s been King since his parents passed away, three years ago.”

“Both of them?” Snufkin asked. 

“Yes,” Moomintroll nodded. He took in a deep breath. “They died at sea, on their way back to the Kingdom from another land. There was a terrible storm.”

Snufkin clicked his tongue in sympathy. “The King must be quite young.”

“He’s twenty-four. Three years older than I am.”

Snufkin dipped his head in a slow nod. Moomintroll led him down through a side corridor, owing to the activity elsewhere in the castle. A single guard was on patrol, and they nodded their head as the Prince passed by, unperturbed by his company. He _was_ the Prince, after all, and the Prince was allowed to keep whatever company he liked.

“So… this war,” Snufkin went on, once the guard was some distance away. “How did it happen?”

Moomintroll gazed at the patterned carpet beneath his boots. 

“I can’t tell you exactly how,” he murmured. “Nobody knows. But the King suspected foul play from the very beginning, and… the storm occurred while the Snorks were sailing close to Moomin waters. He accused my parents, demanded evidence of their innocence, and… denied absolutely everything he saw.”

“Mm.” Snufkin slowly nodded. “A common factor of grief.”

The Prince’s heart clenched in his chest. He rose up a little taller, clasping his paws behind his back.

“It was a grief for all of us. My mother had grown up with the late Queen. For Snork to accuse us, after generations of harmony between our families…”

He shook his head. 

“It was unthinkable, somehow. And now we’re in this mess.”

He looked to Snufkin, briefly, and the Mumrik met him with an unreadable gaze. There was sympathy, but something else lay beneath it - and in all Moomintroll’s years of learning the expressions of others, in Snufkin’s he could barely pick out a thing. 

Perhaps he had said too much.

“What is it you want, then?” Snufkin asked suddenly. “Reconnaissance?”

Moomintroll nodded.

“Right,” said Snufkin. “But you could have any number of professional spies investigate the King, could you not?”

“It’s… a private matter,” Moomintroll replied, as they approached the large oak doors of the library. “I do want you to spy - but not on the King. Just the Princess.”

“The Princess,” Snufkin repeated flatly.

Moomintroll frowned. “Yes. Is there a problem with that?”

Snufkin lifted a brow.

“That very much depends on what you’d like to know,” he smirked. “Is it about her suitors? Her bathing routine? Perhaps whether her nightdresses are silk or linen—”

Moomintroll’s heart flared with indignation. His paw flew to grab Snufkin by the collar, lifting him up towards him until the Mumrik was stood on the tip of his toes.

“How _dare_ you!” he gritted, his face burning right up to the ears. “It’s not like that - it’s never been like that! What do you take me for— are you— are you _laughing?”_

Snufkin’s mouth quivered up into a smile, and as soon as Moomintroll pointed it out he turned his head and spluttered towards the floor. His shoulders began to shake.

“Silence!” Moomintroll demanded. Snufkin laughed harder still.

Moomintroll wasn’t sure what he was more perturbed by: that the rogue was laughing, or that he seemed completely unfazed by any effort made to intimidate him. Ears flattening, the Prince dropped Snufkin to the floor and grabbed him by the forearm instead, pulling him the rest of the way to the library doors. 

“Now,” he said firmly, “You are not to leave my sight, and you are _certainly_ not to touch anything, or else I’ll send you down to the dungeons at once. Is that understood?”

Snufkin glanced down to Moomintroll’s paw, wrapped firmly around his bicep. “Quite.”

“Good,” Moomintroll nodded. He slowly let go, trying the doors, and found one of them to be unlocked. With a gentle push it creaked open, and Moomintroll led Snufkin inside.

In Moomintroll’s eyes, the library made even the grandest ballroom pale into insignificance. Dark though it was, he could easily pick out the shape of the towering bookshelves as they rose up towards the arched ceiling, whispering of a thousand ancient tales. A comforting, book-dusty smell met his nostrils as he breathed in, and moonlight filtered in through the eastern windows to cast the walls in an eerie blue. A hush fell over them when Moomintroll closed the door, leaving them in the dense silence that could only be felt in a room full of books.

“I’ll need light to find what we’re looking for,” he told Snufkin. The Mumrik stared at him blankly, and Moomintroll gestured with his paw with a roll of his eyes. “Your illumination spell?”

Another smirk settled on Snufkin’s face. 

“Oh, _right,”_ he drawled. “My apologies. I forgot you Moomins can’t see in the dark.”

Opening his paws, he swirled one over the other before clamping down. When he lifted it, a small ball of light sparked to life in his opposite palm, and he let it hang in the air between them. 

“Thank you,” Moomintroll huffed.

They strode further into the library, the light providing a circle of protection from the heavy darkness around them. Moomintroll led Snufkin up to the librarian’s desk, covered in scattered papers and half-used ink pots, and he let out a sigh before pushing some of the clutter aside. 

His paws found the edges of a book, and he tugged it out of the pile in a small cloud of dust. 

“Here we are,” he said, tapping the cover. “The index book. Just look up… whatever it is you need. Magic things.”

Snufkin stepped forward, leaning over the book and taking it in his paws. He lifted it from one side, hefting it over to the table of contents, dust spiralling into the air. 

“I’m not looking for anything in particular,” he said, flipping to the letter ‘M’ and scanning down the page with his finger. “Just something related to magic.”

Moomintroll blinked. “You don’t even know what you want?”

Snufkin looked up, meeting his gaze. “Oh, I know what I want all right,” he murmured. “Just… not how to find it.”

After a moment, he tapped the name of a book. Moomintroll glanced over his shoulder.

 _“The Magic Enigma: Lost Spells and Forgotten Charms,”_ he read.

Snufkin nodded. “This one. Which section is this?”

Moomintroll hummed. He pressed his finger down to the page, following the line to the index number, and then gestured for Snufkin to follow him. He led him down into the belly of the library itself, weaving in and out of the bookshelves with practiced memory.

Beside him, Snufkin wandered along, the magic light hovering a few inches above his head. 

“I’m surprised,” he said suddenly, and Moomintroll turned to stare at him. “I mean - you said you don’t have any spellbooks. Don’t Moomins have magic too?”

“Moomin magic isn’t _normal_ magic,” The Prince stated haughtily. “We don’t subscribe to any of that hocus-pocus pulling rabbits out of hats thing. Our magic is inherent.” He pressed a paw to his chest, rather proudly. “It’s _within_ us. We don’t need to learn it.”

“All magic is learned,” came Snufkin’s reply. “But _please_ tell me more.”

“Am I detecting sarcasm?” Moomintroll muttered. 

Snufkin laughed. “So _there’s_ that fabled Moomin magic I’ve heard about. I didn’t have to tell you a thing.”

For a moment, Moomintroll considered how he might push Snufkin into a nearby bookshelf. 

“You’re doing a very excellent job of aggravating me, considering I’ve taken mercy on you,” he snipped. “But _no,_ Moomin magic is not simply the ability to detect insincerity, however good at that I might be. It’s about being able to speak without words, to convey feelings at a distance. And it doesn’t require books.”

He crossed his arms against his chest.

“So no, I don’t _study_ magic. I have everything I need right up here.” 

He patted the space between his ears, and Snufkin leaned over to peer at him. 

“Hm,” said Snufkin. “It must be invisible.”

Moomintroll’s paws fell down to his sides, his fingers curling inwards. 

“Come on,” he gritted, striding ahead. “The night is waning, and our time so _regretfully_ short.”

They approached the Magic and Divination section of the library, full of books that were likely more ancient than even the deepest tomes of Moomin history. A strange feeling accompanied these books, filling the air around them - more than simply being old, they seemed to ache with a certain otherworldly expectation. Moomintroll’s ears flicked, noticing how the books seemed to sing of their own potency. 

“This is it,” he told Snufkin, slowing to a stop in front of the bookshelves. Snufkin immediately crouched beside him, the ball of light drawing closer as if on command. 

He glanced up at Moomintroll. 

“So... what was it _you_ wanted?” the rogue asked. “With that Princess of yours?”

Moomintroll took a moment to consider it. There was the obvious thing - he wanted to know if Snorkmaiden was _well,_ if she was happy and taken care of. He needed to know if she was all right, if things in her kingdom were thrumming along in a mundane rhythm like they were in his. But saying such a thing out loud seemed… personal, somehow, and Moomintroll was trying not to feed into any of the sordid impressions Snufkin appeared to already have of him.

“I want to know what she’s doing,” he said simply. “I want to know what position she holds, in relation to her brother. If he gave her any kind of promotion within the royal court - she was just getting old enough for that, when I last saw her.” 

He watched as Snufkin’s fingers danced over the spine of a book.

“I also need to know what happened to the letters I sent her,” he continued. “It must have been over a year ago now, so there is a slight chance they’ve been destroyed, but… I suspected at the time that they fell into the paws of King Snork. I want to know whether they actually did.”

Snufkin eventually pulled out the book they had identified in the index, dusting it off with his paw and rising to his feet. The cover was embroidered, the title stitched in silver thread. He opened it on a random page and skimmed it, flipping to another, and another, until he finally looked up and nodded. 

“I’ll take it,” he said, his eyes catching the light of the illumination spell. He shut the book with a muted thud. “I will need a week, give or take a day. How best might I contact you when the information has been retrieved?”

“Well,” Moomintroll replied, starting back up the aisles of books. “Seeing as you managed to so _easily_ find your way into my chambers, we’ll meet there. I usually retire at ten o’clock.”

He peered over at the book Snufkin was clutching in his paws, and didn’t pretend to know anything about it. It looked rather nice, though. Expensive.

“There is one other thing, rogue.”

Snufkin slowed, a few paces ahead, and turned to meet the Prince’s gaze. “And what might that be?”

“I will need some kind of insurance from you,” he said. “To guarantee your return.”

 _“What,_ you don’t trust me?” Snufkin asked, pressing his paw to his chest. “I’m wounded.”

“I will not dignify that with an answer,” said Moomintroll, his nose wrinkling. 

Snufkin laughed, tucking the book under one arm and walking onwards. “Fair enough. What would you propose, then?”

Moomintroll followed along, keen to stay in the light of the Mumrik’s spell. As much as he enjoyed the library, the thought of the dark lurking in the empty rows was most off-putting. 

“Something you need to come back for,” he suggested. “Something you’ll miss. As I said - something to guarantee you keep to your word.”

Emerging from the inner depths of the library, they came to a stop beside the tall oak doors. Snufkin hefted the large book further underneath his arm, and with his free paw, he unlatched the satchel at his hip. Moomintroll watched as he dug through, eventually retrieving a black wooden pipe.

“It was my father’s,” he said quietly. “Will this be enough?”

Moomintroll took the pipe in his paw, turning it over to examine it carefully. The pipe was carved and textured, with a brown spot painted on each side, and when Moomintroll squinted he could almost make out the mark of an initial: a scruffy J. 

He glanced back up, and suddenly noticed a certain sincerity in Snufkin’s expression. The Mumrik’s paw was halfway lifted towards him, as if vying to take the object back, and when he caught Moomintroll staring he swiftly landed it on the cover of his borrowed book.

“Perfect,” the Prince nodded. He slipped the pipe into his trouser pocket and extended his paw for Snufkin to shake. “You have yourself a deal.”

This time, Snufkin broke a smile. He met Moomintroll’s paw and shook it firmly. 

“A pleasure doing business with you, Prince Moomintroll.”

###### 

The following morning, Moomintroll awoke earlier than he had in a long time. 

It was past dawn, but the sun still threw itself against the curtains of his bed. The Prince yawned, stretching his limbs, and at once the memories of the previous night rushed back to him. 

Upon the forging of their deal, Snufkin had disappeared as swiftly as he had arrived. Moomintroll had returned to his chambers and placed the pipe in a locked safekeeping box underneath his bed. He had dropped asleep in moments, pushed by sheer exhaustion, and remained dreamless throughout the night.

Running a paw down over his nose, Moomintroll vaguely wondered if the whole thing had been a figment of his imagination. He rolled over and reached his paw underneath the bed, feeling for the box, and pulled it up onto the mattress beside him. He retrieved the key from his bedside drawer and slowly prised the box open. 

The pipe was there. Moomintroll exhaled, and a smile crossed his lips. 

“So, it _was_ real,” he murmured.

Breakfast was being served by the time Moomintroll was dressed and downstairs. He crossed the dining hall to the King first, dipping his head to give his father a kiss between the ears. The King distractedly reached up with a paw to pat his son’s jaw.

He turned to his mother next, sitting down beside her and kissing her cheek. The Queen returned the gesture with a kiss to Moomintroll’s forehead, and he leaned into it with a little smile. 

“Good morning Mamma,” said Moomintroll. “Pappa.”

“Good morning, dear,” the Queen smiled. “I do hope you’re feeling better after a night’s rest.”

The King looked up from his letter to give Moomintroll a somewhat reproachful glance. 

“Quite a few guests asked after you when you’d left, son,” he said. “Particularly the eligible and well-connected ones.”

Moomintroll frowned. He reached for some porridge, spooning it into his bowl, and thanked a nearby server as they poured tea into his cup. 

“I apologise for yesterday evening,” he uttered. “I had just… reached my saturation point of festivities. That’s all.”

The King’s expression softened. He reached for his own teacup, lifting it towards Moomintroll. 

“Never mind, my boy,” he declared. “There will be other Spring Galas, no doubt. Perhaps the summer garden party - we’ll get ‘em next time, eh?”

Moomintroll nodded, and busied himself with swirling honey into his porridge. 

“In other news,” the King went on, sliding the letter he’d been holding towards Moomintroll, “Some time ago I wrote an application for a mage - you know, to strengthen our position and whatnot - anyhow, it seems that we’ve finally been accepted.”

Moomintroll blinked. He took the letter, unfurling it in front of him, and his eyes widened as he scanned the words.

_Your Highnesses King and Queen Moomin,_

_I most delight in your interest for one of my mages to join you, and further the magical interests of your Kingdom. Our Mymble mages are some of the most magically talented from one end of the land to the other, and so we pride ourselves in recommending only the finest and hardest-working young Mymbles to royal courts such as yours._

Moomintroll’s read lower. “Wait a minute…”

_However, considering the current financial limitations you have explained to me in your letter, I was afraid that you may not be in a position to accept one of our diligent mages. Nevertheless, I was keen to find a solution in your favour. The particular mage I have allocated you is certainly of considerable skill, but she will be on loan to you at a more reasonable price, owing to her rather sensitive track record._

_Fear not, as I am confident that she will work hard to earn her keep; but you must understand that there may be some small grievances owing to her disobedient nature. She was born on the wrong side of a full moon, you see._

Moomintroll had no idea what that meant.

_If there should be any problems at all, feel free to send me a letter and I shall provide an expedient response. In the meantime, I will thank you both profusely for your custom._

_Sincerely,_

_Queen Mymble of the Southeastern Mymbles_

Moomintroll stared. He dropped the letter to the table and looked back up at his father.

“So we’re getting a discount one,” he said flatly.

“Now son, what a mage’s magical talent is worth monetarily doesn’t define the work they’re capable of,” the King said carefully, reaching for a small bowl of freshly churned butter. “Any mage is better than no mage, especially with King Snork tightening his grip. You never know what’s around the corner, my boy.”

Suddenly, Moomintroll heard a quiet gasp from his mother beside him. The Queen had lifted her teacup, and the tea inside had promptly begun to spill out from the bottom onto her saucer. At once several servants appeared, poised with washcloths, and Moomintroll pulled his own napkin up off the table and began to dab his mother’s fur.

As she lifted the cup, Moomintroll noticed that the underside was dotted with holes, not unlike a sieve. The Queen blinked. 

“How funny.”

“Let me see that,” the King urged, and the Queen passed the cup over. He squinted, inspecting the holes.

“My word,” he muttered. “We’ll have to get you a new one, my dear. This simply won’t do.”

He passed back the cup, and breakfast resumed. The King carved out a healthy dollop of butter from the bowl in front of him. 

“Yes, apologies for ruining the surprise,” he went on, “But I supposed it would be best to be prepared. You’ve got to get used to being notified of comings and goings throughout the Kingdom. Soon you won’t want surprises. People showing up unannounced is never a good thing.”

All of a sudden, there came a low, grumbling, _croaking_ sound from the King’s plate. 

Moomintroll turned his attention to the source of the noise - and to his horror, he discovered that the King had been about to smear his butter across the back of a large, fat, brown toad. 

The Prince screeched, reeling backwards and stumbling off his chair. He made the mistake of glancing downwards into his bowl of porridge, which instead had been replaced by a mass of crawling worms. The servants hurried forth, scrambling to gather up the crockery.

“Mamma!” Moomintroll wailed, waving his arms. “Do something!”

A strange cackle could be heard from somewhere, and echoed eerily as it bounced off the four walls of the dining room. It was hard to tell where exactly the laughter was coming from, seemingly ringing from everywhere at once. Moomintroll began to quiver.

“There is only one thing that can account for such trickery,” the King muttered. “I do believe our mage has arrived.”

“Oh dear, oh dear,” the Queen murmured. She stood up, and Moomintroll immediately flung himself into her arms and began to sob. She stroked between his ears. “Don’t worry, my little Moomintroll. I suspect our new mage has just decided to show her, erm… character.”

The server holding both the toad and the plate twitched her tail nervously. She squeaked as the toad shifted, leaping from the plate back onto the table. 

“Should I call the guard, your Highness?” she asked meekly. 

“That won't be necessary,” the King said, furrowing his brow. He lifted his gaze and his voice at once, shouting into the open room. “Mage! Yes, we’re all very impressed by your tricks, but we’ve had quite enough, thank you! Show yourself at once, lest I send you straight back to your own Queen.”

There was another cackle, before smoke began to rise from the centre of the dining table and stretch outwards. Moomintroll could barely look, just one eye peeking open from where he ducked his head against his mother’s chest, and from the smoke the cackling grew louder and louder. 

The smoke fell away at once to reveal a short Mymble, with piercing, beady green eyes and red hair tied up tightly into a bun atop her head. She wore a red dress that sloped down into a pleated skirt, and where the dress cut off at her knees, a pair of long black boots stretched downwards. The unknowing eye may have assumed that a Mymble of this size was a child, but Moomintroll knew better. This Mymble had the devilish grin and the magic capabilities to indicate that she was nothing less than fully-grown.

Pulling away from the Queen, he sniffed indignantly. “And you are?”

“Little My,” the mage said simply. She arched a brow and held out a paw. “Aren’t you going to greet me properly, your Highness?”

###### 

After breakfast, the Prince began to get the distinct feeling that he was being followed. 

He wasn’t sure _where_ it came from, exactly, but halfway through his morning duties the door of his father’s study closed unexpectedly and abruptly behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could have sworn on his own tail that things began to move of their own accord. 

First the door, which made him yelp out loud most embarrassingly. Then it was the papers on the other side of the desk, which appeared to shift right to the very edge, as if they were about to fall, only for them to be perfectly still and flat on the wood when he looked back. The curtains had been open when he entered the room, but halfway through his work he noticed them closed. He began to second-guess himself, feeling distinctly uncomfortable - _had_ he closed them himself, to shield his eyes from the sun, and simply forgotten?

On his way back down the corridor to meet with his tutor, Mr. Hemulen, Moomintroll found no less than five paintings on the wall upside down. When he attempted to rectify them, his fur became stuck to the canvas like glue - he pulled, suddenly frightful, and almost staggered backwards onto the floor when they finally came free.

“Mage?” he called. “I know you’re here, so you can stop playing silly games with me. Haven’t you got work to do?”

Once again, Little My’s voice preceded her. 

“Haven’t _you_ got work to do?”

She emerged from around the corner, her paws tucked behind her back, and crossed the short distance until she was stood right in front of Moomintroll.

 _“I’ve_ been busy watching over the denizens of this castle and making sure it hasn’t been hexed to the Lonely Mountains and back,” she said, quirking a brow. “What about you? Don’t you have any more papers to hem and haw at?”

 _“No,”_ Moomintroll said pointedly, “I’m off to see Mr. Hemulen. And the only ‘denizen’ you appear to have been watching over is me.”

“Only trying to parse just what it is you _do_ exactly, your Highness,” Little My said, examining her paw. She glanced up at him. “There is a war going on, you know."

Moomintroll bristled.

“I know that better than you do,” replied curtly. “And I don’t expect you to _comment_ on it, mage. You are here to do the work the Queen tells you to, and nothing else.”

He stepped forward and crouched down until he was eye-level with Little My. She set her paws on her hips and stared right back, smirking.

“You should have read what your mother wrote about you,” Moomintroll went on. “Really was a rather interesting profile. So _flattering.”_

“I’ve heard it all before, pal,” Little My shrugged, her smirk widening. “Nice try changing the subject, though.”

The more the Prince stared at her, the more he felt the urge to lean forward and flick her right on her pointed nose. She stirred the sort of annoyance in his gut that threatened to ruin his appetite before lunch - and that in of itself was deeply vexatious.

“I’m not doing anything other than that which the Queen expects of me,” he said simply. “Unlike you.”

“Wow,” Little My said dryly. “Sign me up to be a Prince, then. Sounds like a piece of cake.” She tapped her chin. “Or perhaps a Princess... I’ve heard the one in the Snork Kingdom is making quite a name for herself.”

Moomintroll’s heart felt as if it had dropped right out of his chest and toppled onto the floor. He stood up and jabbed a finger at Little My.

"You know _nothing_ about Princess Snorkmaiden!" he snapped, and his voice echoed in the long stretch of the corridor. “And you know nothing about me! You think you can just... _worm_ your way into this life, insert yourself wherever you aren’t wanted - well, let me tell you.”

He stepped forward until he loomed over her, his paws clenching into fists by his side.

“No pint-sized Mymble has ever been a Princess.”

Little My folded her arms, immovable. She glared back up at Moomintroll. 

“Touched a nerve there, did I, Princey boy?” she asked, hopping up on a nearby table. She met him nearly at his eye level, and Moomintroll clenched his jaw and retreated by a single step.

“I’ve heard the stories, you know,” she continued. “Word travels fast when it seems two Kingdoms are as close as you were. What are you _really_ so upset about, hm? This stuffy routine that you’re going about? Or the fact that everything you thought was certain has gone up in flames?”

It took Moomintroll a few seconds to process her words, but then his expression shifted to one of pure fury. 

“You. Little. _Weed—”_

“Aha!” came the King’s voice, all of a sudden, and Moomintroll’s head whirled around to see his father striding down the hall. “There’s our new mage - and there’s my boy! Getting to know each other, are we?”

Instinctively, Moomintroll’s ears lifted back up from where they’d pinned themselves firmly against his head. He forced his mouth into as placid a smile as he could manage, and spoke through gritted teeth.

“Yes, Pappa, I was just… reminding Little My of her _duties.”_

“Most excellent,” the King said, clapping his paws together as Little My stood straight, her paws clasped behind her back. She was beaming like an angel. “Speaking of duties, My, I’ve a few jobs for you here and there. Moomintroll, I do believe you’re due to meet with Mr. Hemulen, yes?”

“Oh, yes,” Little My said, feigning significant interest. “He was telling me all about it - what class are you going to, again? Basket-weaving?”

Moomintroll smiled at her contemptuously. “It’s history.”

“History. Yes.”

There was a moment of awkward silence, before the King cleared his throat and nodded.

“Right, splendid!” he said. “If you’ll accompany me, Little My, and we’ll be on our way.”

Moomintroll watched hopelessly as Little My hopped from the table and trotted after the King. She didn’t look back, but Moomintroll somehow knew she was smirking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment and we'll give you the toad from the breakfast scene
> 
> (go follow our BLOG? we have a blog. http://akingdomofthree.tumblr.com/)


	3. Washed In With The Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rain is falling heavily in the Moomin Kingdom. Prince Moomintroll awaits the return of the rogue he tasked with retrieving the long-lost letters he’d written to the Snork Princess. In with the rain come a number of new revelations, and Moomintroll finds himself caught between his duties and the newfound advantage of having Snufkin on his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello there!!!
> 
> i wanna take the opportunity to thank all of you who have left us kudos/likes/comments, whether here or over on our blog! it's so sweet and encouraging to see the little bursts of interest and activity when people start reading, and we've had such a great response for just two chapters already!! thanks for stickin with us in this panoramic we are v v grateful
> 
> pls enjoy! if you can read this we are sendin u a little Kisse

It was exactly two weeks to the day that Moomintroll had seen Snufkin last. 

A week and a half would have given the rogue more than enough time to spend a few days in the Snork Kingdom and return, but Moomintroll supposed Snufkin had taken his chance to run. He still dutifully kept the pipe in the box under his bed, but there was no telling that it had any real worth or consequence. It was old and worn from wear, the decorative elements barely visible, and the bowl had been burned until it was encased in black. 

Perhaps Snufkin had been looking for an opportunity to get rid of the thing. How was Moomintroll to know that it had ever belonged to anyone’s father? He felt rather a fool for believing it.

Snufkin had stolen a book from the Moomins’ royal library, no doubt containing a priceless anthology of spells and potions that he would use however he wished, and there was no real reason for him to return. The rogue had won, the Prince had lost, and life was no less dull or heavy for the fact.

The rain pelted down for three days and three nights, and Moomintroll was thoroughly bored. Great clouds swept down from the Lonely Mountains and made their way through the Kingdom in merciless showers, hammering the windows and pooling in the castle courtyards. The rivers were rising, and Little My was put to work creating some elaborate magical dams to stave off a potential flood. Moomintroll, for the most part, stayed up in his room with the curtains drawn.

A particularly nasty wind buffeted the towering walls of the castle that night, slinging rain against the Prince’s window in pattering gales. The sound very nearly drowned out the knock that came at his door. 

Moomintroll glanced up from the book in his lap, slowly folding it shut. 

“Come in,” he said.

The Queen quietly stepped in at Moomintroll’s behest. In her paws, she held a hot cup of tea, the steam curling up around her nose.

“I thought you might like something warm to drink,” she smiled. She passed the cup to Moomintroll and sat on the edge of the bed beside him, her gaze lifting up towards the window. Small rivulets of rainwater ran down the glass, racing each other to the bottom, and as Moomintroll blew over his cup he felt his mother lift her paw and stroke the fur between his ears.

No matter what he attempted to distract himself with, his mind went back to the disappeared rogue over and over again. He had been so _close_ to getting even a tiny piece of what he wanted - or at least, that was what he had convinced himself of - and now the prospect of getting a return on his deal had been washed away with the rain. 

His memories of Princess Snorkmaiden bunched up in his heart like tangled string, and he felt hopeless each time he tried to unpick them. He had so many things he wanted to say to her, so many questions he needed the answer to. She would have grown just as he had in the year since they had last seen one another. He needed to know she was well, whether she’d managed to find some semblance of peace or happiness, or whether their separation was torturing her the way it tortured him.

“I miss Mai,” he mumbled. No sooner had the words come from him were his eyes welling with tears, and he buried his muzzle in his teacup.

“I know, my love,” came the Queen’s gentle reply. He looked up at her to see the way her brow was creased in sympathy, and he leaned back until he was resting his weight against her chest. “I suppose the two of you never got to have a proper good-bye. But do you know what I think that means?”

She smiled, cupping Moomintroll’s face in her paws. The Prince miserably shook his head.

“It means you quite certainly _will_ see her again.”

Moomintroll sniffed deeply. His mother’s paws on his cheeks provided a comforting barrier to the rest of the world. The tears in his eyes spilled, and the Queen wiped them away with her thumbs. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” she murmured. “But time is ever changing. This will not be forever.”

Moomintroll wasn’t so sure. Snorkmaiden had driven him away with her blade, threatening him if he dared to return, and nothing had seemed more final than that. The sight of her riding away was burned into his mind along with her final words: _I love you._

Some act of love, to chase him away and never speak to him again.

Moomintroll sighed and reached for his teacup once more.

“Thanks, Mamma,” he said quietly. “I think things are… just a little confusing right now.”

The Queen nodded sympathetically. 

“Get some sleep, dear,” she said, pressing a kiss to his forehead and rising to her feet. “A good night’s rest always soothes the mind.”

Moomintroll passed the now-empty teacup back to the Queen, swallowing the last mouthful. His exhaustion began to catch up with him, and he yawned. 

He leaned forward, closing the distance and kissing his mother’s cheek. 

“Goodnight, Mamma,” he said. “Thank you for everything.”

The Queen gave him a soft smile, smoothing out the fur between his ears. “It’s never any trouble, my love,” she said. “Sleep tight.”

The small flames of the candles quivered ever so gently as she left, shutting the door behind her. Silence reigned in the room for all of thirty seconds or so, before there came a sharp rap against the window.

Moomintroll blinked. He stared at the window, holding his breath, and sure enough the knocking came again. It didn’t sound much like wind or rain. It sounded like…

The Prince gasped, leaping out of bed to hurry to the window. He pulled it open and a gust of wind bullied its way inside, followed by a very cold, very wet Mumrik.

Slamming the window shut behind him, Snufkin panted, hair plastered to his face as he peeled back his damp hood. 

“Thank goodness,” he wheezed. “I thought she’d never leave.”

 _“Snufkin?!”_ said Moomintroll incredulously. 

“The very same,” Snufkin replied woozily. He swayed a little where he stood. 

Moomintroll’s jaw clenched, and he hurried over to his wardrobe to pull out some clean clothes. He threw them haphazardly in Snufkin’s direction, and a Moomin-sized shirt floated over his head like a parachute.

“Here–” he said, and grabbed a towel. He tossed it to Snufkin, whose arms only extended to catch it when it had already hit the floor. “Get changed. You’ll catch your death if you keep those things on.”

His voice was frantic as he dashed around the room, pulling a spare blanket from his bed and thrusting it into Snufkin’s paws. 

“Moomintroll,” said Snufkin.

“I am duty-bound to ensure you don’t perish of cold, even if you left me for days on end with no word of your whereabouts–”

“Moomintroll,” said Snufkin again.

“And I’ll have to find you something close to a pair of clean trousers - perhaps there’s a pair lying around from when I was a child?” Moomintroll went on. He squinted at Snufkin, “You’re about the size of a ten-year-old Moomin, I’d say.”

“Moomintroll!” Snufkin said, and the Prince was alarmed to see that he was laughing. 

“What?” 

Snufkin dropped the pile of clean things on the end of the bed. “I got the letters,” he said. “Well - some. Not all. But I got them.”

_The letters._

Moomintroll’s eyes widened.

Somehow, knowing this made him even more determined to get Snufkin dried off and warmed up. 

“Do you want them?” Snufkin asked, inclining his head. 

“Of course I want them!” Moomintroll replied brusquely. He gestured with his paw, turning around on the spot. “Hurry up and get changed so I can see them.”

He stood, his mind racing, his gaze fixed on the wall. His foot began to tap on the carpet. 

“Where _were_ you?” he demanded, after a moment. “I thought you might have died. Or worse - abandoned me.”

He heard the quiet shifting of fabric. 

“And leave my father’s pipe?” said Snufkin. “Unlikely.” There was another ten seconds of shuffling, before the Mumrik’s voice piped up again. “All right. You can turn around now.”

Moomintroll turned. Snufkin wore the oversized clothes very poorly indeed, but he supposed that couldn’t be helped. He was a rogue, after all - it made sense that a Prince’s clothing wouldn’t fit him. 

He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, watching as Snufkin rolled the sleeves of the shirt up his forearms. 

“The rain slowed me down,” Snufkin explained, and leaned over to roll the cuffs of the trousers too. “Paths I usually take were flooded. Had to go the long way ‘round.”

He sighed, sitting on the floor and scrubbing at his hair with the towel. Moomintroll stood and picked up the drenched clothes, unsure of what exactly to do with them, and then carefully laid them across the armchair next to the fire. He sat himself down very gingerly next to Snufkin on the rug.

“Well,” he said, staring into his lap. “You’re here now, I suppose.”

“Suppose so,” Snufkin nodded. 

Moomintroll nodded back. He was torn between wanting to shake Snufkin by the shoulders and demand the letters at once, and being fearful of seeing them again. 

It had been so long since he had written to the Princess. Longer still since he had heard from her.

Somehow, Snufkin seemed to realise what Moomintroll wanted. He reached into his satchel and produced a leather-bound book - dampened by rain, but the inside pages were dry. Unravelling the strip of leather keeping it shut, he opened it and passed Moomintroll several small scrolls, their seals broken. 

“These were what I could find,” he said. “I didn’t have much time.”

Moomintroll took the letters, and for a moment, he simply held them against his chest. He ran his thumbs over the scrolls, unfurling them one by one.

“Where did you find these?” he murmured, meeting Snufkin’s gaze. “Were they with the King? Had he taken them off her?”

“Not at all,” Snufkin replied. “They were in her private study. I doubt they had been moved in quite some time.”

Moomintroll’s heart swooped with relief. King Snork hadn’t taken his letters after all - they had been left safe and intact, precisely where the Princess wanted them to be.

He picked one out, reading the first paragraph. 

_Dearest Mai,_  
_Pappa's being ever so bothersome, you know. The other day he said he wanted me to watch him while he was writing, can you believe such a thing?!_

He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t exactly remember having written that letter. When had it been - the autumn before last? Perhaps the summer before that?

_Dearest Mai,_  
_Remember that clapping game you taught me when we were children? I tried it on the mirror and now the mirror is cracked! I think I did it a bit too hard. Will I get seven years' bad luck? I hope not!_

It was almost as if he were reading the words of a stranger. He read down a little further, and then turned to the next, his heart clenching.

_Dearest Mai,_  
_I’m so sorry I can’t be there for your birthday. I’ve enclosed the very prettiest flower I could find, don't blame me if it’s wilted!_

The words began to blur in Moomintroll’s vision. He skimmed from one letter to the next, and the next, until his own sentiments were spinning around inside his head. He hastily wiped his eyes with the back of his paw, and suddenly realised that Snufkin had been talking.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Um - what did you just say? I got distracted reading.”

Snufkin tilted his head, but made no comment on the Prince’s tearfulness. 

“I said she’s the head of the guard, over there. I don’t know if that’s news to you or not.” 

Moomintroll’s eyes widened. “She’s… Captain of the Guard?”

He wasn’t sure whether to feel proud or horrified. Captain of the Guard was the highest position a military-minded Snork could possibly achieve - to lead the Guard, the Princess would have had to prove herself an outstanding tactician, a strong negotiator, and fiercely loyal to the King. 

His fingers danced a steady pattern over the letters.

“You two were friends, were you not?” Snufkin asked. “You seemed close.”

“Best friends,” Moomintroll clarified. “Since we were both toddlers. I always got on better with her than with Snork. We’d travel between the kingdoms and play together, go down to the beach to swim, take a boat out on the river with her father to go fishing.” 

He took in a deep breath. “It was never a romantic thing. More like... she was the sister I never got to have. We were just... very special friends.”

His vision was blurry again.

“You must think I’m some sort of sap,” he sighed. He set the letters down, carefully, on his bedside table. 

“Not at all,” came Snufkin’s reply. “Quite the opposite. You’re very odd.”

Moomintroll wasn’t sure what to make of that. 

“Odd,” he repeated flatly. 

“Yes - well,” Snufkin continued, “Most royals I’ve come across wouldn’t have given me warm towels and dry clothes. Especially not after I broke into their castle. It’s odd.”

Moomintroll blinked. After a moment he shook his head, staring down into his lap. 

“No… no sense in letting you freeze to death with my letters on you,” he murmured. 

Snufkin gave him a hint of a smile. “I appreciate it.”

Moomintroll gazed back at the letters, and instinctively moved to gather them up again. He held them in his paws, knowing they had been held by the Princess not long before him - and in a strange way, he drew some comfort from that. 

“So… do you still have the pipe?” Snufkin asked. 

“Oh - yes,” Moomintroll nodded, opening his bedside drawer to slot the letters inside. “Yes, I do. Let me…” 

He produced the key from the drawer after a moment’s rummaging, and slid off the bed to find the box he stashed underneath. The pipe remained exactly where he had left it. 

“Here,” he said, passing it over. “I kept my word, of course.” 

He watched as Snufkin took the pipe in his paws. 

“So... do you smoke with it?”

“No,” Snufkin intoned. “I usually like to play pretend that I’m a field mouse, and use it as a small bowl for porridge.”

Moomintroll stared.

“Of _course_ I smoke with it,” Snufkin said with a short laugh. He held the pipe up in front of him, turning it over in his paws. “I have my own, but… this one reminds me of him.”

Moomintroll observed that Snufkin’s expression had turned pensive - he regarded the pipe with a far-away fondness, just for a moment. It disappeared as quickly as it had emerged. 

“Right, then,” he said, lifting himself off the bed. He tucked the pipe into his satchel and patted it. “Thank you for that. I’ll be going now.”

Snufkin turned his head towards the window, and Moomintroll followed his gaze. The rain hadn’t let up at all. 

“Wait - you’re going?” he said. “Out there? In that?” He pointed to the window, and then down at Snufkin himself. “Wearing _those?”_

Snufkin sighed wearily. “Well, what else am I to do?” he said. “I’ve been in worse - weather and clothing.”

The Prince bristled. “I’ll have you know that those are extremely fine clothes, thank you—”

“Precisely,” Snufkin concluded. “Good night.”

He started towards the window, and Moomintroll hurried after him with a twist of anxiety. 

“You can’t go,” he said. Snufkin turned back to look at him, and Moomintroll felt his ears grow hot. “I mean - it really is bad out there. You’ll get ill.”

It wasn’t that Moomintroll cared what happened to the rogue. Quite the opposite, in fact. He’d much prefer the little criminal to spend a decent night in the castle dungeons than anywhere near him.

But if Snufkin had managed to infiltrate the Princess’ private rooms, to take those letters without anyone noticing…

“Um,” Moomintroll started. He lifted his tail into his paws and fiddled with it, before gesturing loosely towards the patch of rug in front of the fireplace. “You can sleep there.”

Snufkin lifted a brow. He followed the Prince’s gaze over to the rug, and then looked back up at him. 

“Are you sure—”

“Don’t give me an opportunity to change my mind,” Moomintroll snipped. “I want you out as soon as the rain stops, and by dawn if it doesn’t. Don’t leave a trace.”

Snufkin appeared to consider it for a moment, and then nodded once. “Very well.”

Wordlessly, the two of them shuffled around the room as they prepared themselves for the night. Moomintroll passed Snufkin a bundle of blankets, and he took them with a murmured thanks, settling down on the rug and drawing them around himself. 

Moomintroll climbed back onto the bed, the mattress creaking underneath him. He reached up to unhook the curtains. 

“Goodnight, then,” he said to Snufkin, who had rolled onto his side to face the fireplace. 

“Goodnight,” Snufkin murmured back.

###### 

Moomintroll awoke to the sound of quick rapping on his bedroom door. He groaned, rolling over and attempting to stick his paws over his ears.

“Your Highness!” came the grating voice of Mrs. Fillyjonk. “It is time to get up!”

It took a moment for Moomintroll to remember what had happened the previous night. It returned to him with a sudden jolt of panic, and he gasped, scrambling up and launching himself over to the bed curtains. He tugged them open, his heart thundering. 

Snufkin was gone.

“Prince Moomintroll—”

Mrs. Fillyjonk burst in, just in time for Moomintroll to sit back on the bed with a heavy sigh of relief. He looked up at her.

“Good morning, Mrs. Fillyjonk,” he said. He offered her a placid smile.

Mrs. Fillyjonk stared. For a moment, she seemed unable to think of something to say to him, and then she shook her head with a quiet ‘hmph’.

“Yes, well,” she said, striding across the room. “Your presence is required no later than ten o’clock. You have an audience with Lady Lumi.”

Moomintroll’s brow furrowed. “Lady Lumi…?”

Mrs. Fillyjonk bustled over to the window, tugging open the curtains. Moomintroll lifted himself off the bed just in time to hear her shriek, and it was enough of a shock to send him tumbling back onto the mattress again. 

“What on _earth_ do you call _this,_ Prince Moomintroll?!” Mrs. Fillyjonk demanded. She whirled around to face him as he sat up, uncomfortably close, and shoved an object into his face. 

It was Snufkin’s pipe. 

Moomintroll’s eyes widened. He took the pipe, turning it over, and then gazed back up at Mrs. Fillyjonk. He found himself at a loss. 

“That… isn’t mine,” he murmured. 

“Pah!” Mrs. Fillyjonk scoffed. “Of course that’s what you would say, isn’t it? You would try to deny your involvement with such _disgusting_ matters, wouldn’t you?”

“Uhhh,” said Moomintroll. 

Mrs. Fillyjonk steeled her gaze at him, unblinking. Moomintroll wondered if she ever blinked. It certainly didn’t seem like it. 

“Well?” she said. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Moomintroll resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Mrs. Fillyjonk, I haven’t been _smoking!”_

She appeared to ignore him. She let out a huff of indignation, before turning primly on her heels and striding back towards the door. 

“Your mother will be hearing of this,” she threatened. The door slammed behind her. 

Silence fell in the room around the Prince, and he was left alone, holding the pipe. He gazed down at it again. 

There was no way Snufkin would have _forgotten_ it, was there? He had spent so long discussing how important it was to him - how he used it, frequently enough to return to the castle and retrieve it. It was his father’s, or so he said. That left only one other possibility.

He had left it there on purpose.

###### 

The pipe remained safely in Moomintroll’s bedroom, in the locked box under his bed, and he supposed Snufkin would be sensible enough to retrieve it in the next few days. It would give him time to consider another task for the rogue - now he knew of Princess Snorkmaiden’s status, he could search for an opportunity to encounter her. Perhaps he could ask Snufkin for her schedule, for her patrols, for even a single chance to seek her out somewhere between his Kingdom and hers. He felt confident. 

Just after breakfast, in the few moments before his parents attended morning court, Moomintroll decided to preempt whatever Mrs. Fillyjonk had threatened. He took his mother to one side in the hallway, and she met him with a smile, reaching for his paw and squeezing it. 

“What’s on your mind, my little Moomintroll?” she asked. 

Moomintroll chewed his lip. His heart rattled in his chest - not for fear of what his mother might say about the pipe itself, but more of how he might explain it. He couldn’t possibly tell her about Snufkin. Not yet. He would simply have to… embellish the truth, a little.

“Listen, Mamma, um… Mrs. Fillyjonk is probably going to want to talk to you at some point today. She found something in my room, and—” he chuckled sheepishly. “Well, you know how it is. She got a bit upset - but it’s all a big mix-up, I assure you.”

The Queen tilted her head, but her smile remained. “Oh? And what might that be, dear?”

Moomintroll breathed a sigh. “It’s—” his voice lowered. “A _pipe._ You know, the smoking sort. But it doesn’t belong to me, and so I thought I’d clear that up with you now. It… belongs to a friend. It even has his initial on it! I’ll happily show you, if you want.”

The Queen blinked for a moment, and then let out a quiet laugh. “Moomintroll,” she said, lifting her paw to run it between his ears. “You are old enough and responsible enough to make your own decisions about these things. I am certain Mrs. Fillyjonk simply mentioned it out of a sense of concern.”

“Concern,” Moomintroll repeated glibly. “That’s one way to put it.”

The Queen hummed, leaning forward to kiss Moomintroll’s forehead. “Well. I am glad you have made a new friend, at least. What’s his name?”

Moomintroll froze.

“Um… it’s. Well. Here’s the thing,” he said. “He goes by… lots of names! He’s somewhat of a traveller, you see. Quite a mysterious fellow. But he carved the initial ‘J’ on the pipe, so… that’s the one he’s going with for the moment. J. I’m sure it’s short for something.”

“Certainly,” the Queen nodded. “That’s lovely, dear.”

Moomintroll hummed affirmatively. His legs felt a little like jelly, and he was suddenly grateful that his mother always seemed to take his word for things. Clearly, it was because she recognised just how clever he was.

When the time was right, he was sure she’d understand everything he had to say about Snufkin, too.

“Will that be all, dear?” she asked. 

“Oh,” Moomintroll replied. “One more thing. Um. About Lady Lumi.”

The Queen’s smile turned somewhat sympathetic. “Remember what I said about that. It’s your choice. Now and always.”

Moomintroll nodded. He pressed his fingers together, gazing down at them for a moment, before he glanced up at his mother again. 

“Mamma,” he began, “If I should ever, you know… really come to like someone… how will I know?”

The Queen chuckled. She pressed her nose to the top of Moomintroll’s head. 

“Mostly, you just _will,”_ she said. “It’s a mysterious thing, but… you just happen upon it, like finding a lone flower up on a hillside. With your father, it was when I began getting aches around my mouth from smiling so frequently. You’ll know.”

Moomintroll breathed a sigh. He pulled away, taking his mother’s paws, and pressed a kiss to each of them. 

“Thank you, Mamma,” he smiled. “Wish me luck.”

###### 

It was a clear and warm enough day for Moomintroll to meet Lady Lumi out in the castle gardens. The heavy rain had finally eased, leaving a sharp scent on the air in its wake - the ground remained damp, but the larger puddles had begun to shrink and retract. The spring flowers were budding, the scent of pollen rising in the air, and he found her sat out on the terrace overlooking the swathes of grass. Her lady-in-waiting spotted him first, and she stood, curtseying to Lumi and making her exit back into the building. 

Lady Lumi rose from her seat, clutching the edges of her ruffled gown. She stood back in a sweeping curtsey, her eyes glittering with the reflection of the sun, and her soft grey ears perked.

“Prince Moomintroll!” she said brightly. “Such an honour to see you again. I want to thank you for giving up your time to see me.”

“Lady Lumi,” Moomintroll greeted, politely enough. He met her curtsy with a bow, before taking hold of her right paw in his and giving it a gentle kiss. “I’m delighted that you came to visit.” 

He nodded out towards the garden, where the rain was drying up in the sunlight. He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

“Of _course,”_ said Lumi, looping her arm through his. “Gosh, isn’t it wonderful that the spring has finally arrived? I can feel the sunshine going straight into my soul.”

“Certainly,” Moomintroll nodded. “It’s nice to not be feeling quite so tired all the time.”

“Heavens, yes,” Lumi replied. She tutted quietly. “Nature really ought to catch up. I mean - hibernation is a _primitive_ notion for a Moomin nowadays. We have cities, for goodness’ sake! Libraries full of books, full of knowledge… my Pappa always says that we are the generation of a great rebirth. Of moving away from all of these…” She waved a paw. “Old-fashioned instincts.”

Moomintroll hummed. He glanced upwards, watching as a bird danced its way through the sky. “My Pappa always says we ought to draw from the experiences of our ancestors,” he murmured. “But then again, I suppose we are a different generation.” 

He offered her a smile, and she returned it with a small nod. They made their way to the flowerbeds, and Lumi let out a heavy sigh. 

“This weather we’ve been having,” she said, reaching for a flower and running her fingertips over the petals. “Such dreadful rain! It overflowed the fountain in my garden and drowned my rosebush…” She lifted her paw up to her cheek, looking positively sorrowful. “Heaven knows if they’ll bloom properly now. Poor things.”

Moomintroll’s brow furrowed. He did what he always did when faced with an unfamiliar person: considered what Snorkmaiden would have said.

The Princess loved flowers. Flowers of all kinds, and the Snork Castle Gardens she helped to cultivate had become the most beautiful place in all the land. _Hell if you’ve got hayfever,_ he would joke, and Snorkmaiden would laugh that sweet laugh and roll her eyes with an affectionate smile.

“Oh, what a shame,” he murmured. “Nobody likes spoiled flowers. I hope a few can be salvaged, at least.”

They stopped, sitting on a half-wall, watching a pair of bluebirds flit about in the tree above. 

“Look at them! They look like they’re bickering,” Lumi giggled, pointing them out. “Do you think they have a nest of babies somewhere?”

“If they do, they’d better get back to them,” Moomintroll replied with a little smile. “Babies don’t manage too well when they’re stuck in the nest alone. Constantly need feeding and protecting.”

He wasn’t sure why he said it like that. As soon as the words left him, he thought of how his parents must see him that way; vulnerable and open-mouthed, pink patches where his feathers hadn’t grown in, both of them hovering anxiously above him like hummingbirds. What did it look like, he supposed, to those outside of his bubble? To the citizens outside the castle walls, who had spoken of him so reverently among themselves since he was newly born? To Snufkin, who held no loyalties or duties to anybody but himself?

“They really do need lots of love and care,” Lumi said. She looked down at her feet, swaying them from her spot on the half-wall. “I suppose you’ll have to have some children of your own someday, won’t you? Being the heir and all… it must be rather a lot of pressure.”

Moomintroll almost balked. He set his paws squarely on the stone wall behind him, gently squeezing the rock. 

“Ah… not so much,” he murmured, his voice belying the spike of anxiety within him. “I barely feel out of childhood myself. My parents haven’t pressured me too much in that regard, luckily.”

He could hardly imagine being a father - not when the whole of his life stretched out before him, fresh and untouched as new snow.

“Having children is a very selfless thing,” he said. He took in a deep breath, glancing out over the blossoming garden. “It requires a lot of sacrifice. One has to be truly ready for it before they venture out, I think.”

Lumi gazed at him, her eyes wide with a noticeable reverence. 

“What a wise thing to say,” she sighed. “My sister had her baby too soon, I think - always feeding and changing and hardly sleeping a wink. She’s very lucky she has such a big support system. My parents help take care of my niece all the time.”

She rested her paws on her dress, and Moomintroll watched the way her fingers curled in the ruffles. 

“Well… what about marriage, then?” she asked, after a moment.

Moomintroll felt his head start to hurt. Of course, in the proper Moomin society, a marriage would precede children. The upper social circles were never without whispers of the dreaded thing - who might propose to whom, who may be a good match, for fortune or reputation or affection. The Prince had turned twenty-one the previous summer, and already the whispers of his own eligibility had begun to close in.

“People speak so lightly of it,” he said at length, closing his paws in his lap. “I don’t understand why. To me, marriage is one of the heaviest things in the world.” He looked at her, and felt a sudden need to clarify. “Not in a bad way. Not at all. Heavy like… like a jewel, I suppose, or like the foundation of a great tower. The rocks that make a mountain, it’s so…”

He gestured, but found he could barely express a thing through his paws. 

“So very important.”

He nodded slowly, as if agreeing with himself.

“Make no mistake,” he told Lumi. “If I am ever to marry, it shall be for love. True love.”

Lady Lumi nodded slowly. Something appeared to shift in her demeanour; she drew herself up, straightening her shoulders, and at the same time her ears moved back. Moomintroll caught the faintest hint of a blush against her cheeks. 

“Do you think…” She sat closer, and she hesitated a moment as she reached for his paw. It was smaller than his, and she gently ran her thumb over his fur. She glanced at him. “Do you think you could ever see yourself marrying me?”

Moomintroll became very still where he sat. He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat, and could hardly dare to lift his eyes to look at her. 

It was such a bold thing to say, but… he supposed he could hardly blame her. He would probably be the same in her position, vying for the affections of someone of such apparent importance. This was her one chance to get close to the heir of the entire Kingdom, and seal herself in history as his future Queen.

An unpleasant sensation tricked down his back.

“I… I really couldn’t say,” he murmured. He took her paw, closed his own around it, and finally looked at her. “You’re quite charming, Lady Lumi, and the last thing I want is to hurt your feelings. I suppose it’s just that… I’m not sure about marrying anybody.”

It struck him that he sounded awfully clumsy, stumbling up and over his words like attempting to scale a rickety fence.

Lady Lumi’s ears slowly folded back further, and she pulled her gaze away from him. 

“No, I’m sure I understand,” she said. She lightly tugged her paw, and Moomintroll let her take it back. She rubbed her arm, her tail falling over her lap, and she lightly stroked the tuft. She shook her head. “I was... foolish thinking I could just come in and take what I wanted.”

Moomintroll winced. He could hear the humiliation in her voice, and it afforded him no pleasure at all - really, he hadn’t meant to upset her. All he had wanted was the privilege of being able to choose such things, to take the time to consider marriage and babies and whatever else an adult was supposed to do.

She pushed off the half-wall, bunching up the hem of her dress. 

“But, thank you, I suppose,” she said. “For at least letting me have an audience with you. Not many people can say that.”

She began to walk away, and Moomintroll hurriedly pushed himself off the wall to follow after her.

“Please, Lady Lumi,” he said, clasping his paws in front of him. “Wait.”

He heard her sigh, stopping in her tracks, and she slowly turned to look at him again. 

“Please accept my apologies,” he urged. “I am just… so very uncertain of what the future holds.”

Lumi eyed him with utter disappointment, and she sighed, shaking her head. 

“Your feelings, at least, you have made quite clear,” she said.

She stepped back, curtsying once more. When she spoke again, her voice had the air of polite propriety, formal and impersonal out of necessity. No longer was the enthusiasm there, the songbird lilt disappeared. 

Moomintroll could hardly fault her for that.

“It was an honour to spend the afternoon with you, your Highness,” she said, dipping her head. “May we both find happiness.”

He met her in a bow, inclining his head politely. “The same to you, my lady,” he murmured, one paw pressed to his heart. “Farewell.”

Lumi turned once more and walked away. Moomintroll waited until she was out of sight, and then lifted his leg and sharply kicked the wall in frustration. Pain radiated up his foot towards his calf, and he clutched it with a quiet whine of regret. 

“Moomintroll!” came a voice. Moomintroll’s heart jumped, and he whirled around to stare into the flowerbeds. He almost thought that the hushed exclamation of his name had been a figment of his imagination, until he heard it again. _“Moomintroll!”_

Suddenly, a pair of brown ears jumped up from the bushes. The brown ears were followed by a brown snout, and then two brown arms, until a whole Fuzzy was clambering out of the shrubbery and stumbling onto the path ahead of the Prince. 

“M-moomintroll!” he panted. 

Moomintroll stared, slightly aghast. “Sniff?!” he cried. “What are you - what were you _doing_ in there? Were you spying on me?!”

“Not spying!” Sniff said quickly. From his trouser pocket, he retrieved a twice folded piece of paper and what appeared to be some kind of small flute. “I was gathering inspiration! I’m trying to pen a masterpiece, you know.”

He passed Moomintroll the paper. Moomintroll opened it up, stared at it, turned it sideways, turned it upside-down, and then finally just… held it. 

“This is just scribbles,” he said flatly. 

“To you, perhaps!” Sniff went on. “But don’t worry, Moomintroll. I don’t expect the untrained eye to be able to detect the nuances of my composition. Shall I play it for you, so that it might grace your ears instead?”

Moomintroll lifted a brow. “Please do.”

Sniff took the flute to his lips, and instantly struck up a strange, contorted half-melody. At some parts, it seemed as if he might be close to playing something enjoyable; but then he would take a deep breath in through his nostrils, and exhale so forcefully into the instrument that the notes squeaked. It went on for some time. 

Finally, he drew the flute away from his mouth and stretched out both paws, bowing deeply. So deeply, in fact, that the little grey cap which usually sat between his ears slipped to the floor, and he scrambled to gather it up. 

“So!” he said, straightening. “Whaddya think?”

Sniff looked at him, bright-eyed and earnest, and Moomintroll felt his irritation from his encounter with Lumi slip away like a leaf carried on the wind. He managed a smile. 

“I think it’s… quite interesting,” he said with a nod. “Certainly unique.”

Sniff looked ecstatic. Moomintroll passed him the ‘composition’ back, and he tucked it neatly into his pocket with his flute. In wordless companionship, they began strolling back towards the castle. 

“So… Sniff,” Moomintroll started, tucking his paws behind his back. “You didn’t, um… you didn’t happen to hear anything while you were in the flowerbed, did you? When I was talking to that girl?”

“What?” Sniff blinked. He waved a paw. “Oh, no, nothing really. You know I don’t concern myself with girls. Messy business.”

“Mm,” Moomintroll hummed, and found himself smiling. 

“I actually wanted to try writing something for the flute after my walk this morning,” Sniff said. “I went into town to get some more paper, and there was this young bard with a flute sitting on the tailor’s rooftop. Can you imagine? On the rooftop! But he did look very agile, after all.”

Moomintroll’s pace slowed a little. “Yeah?” he asked. “What did he look like?”

“Brown hair and brown fur - though his hair was kind of reddish,” Sniff said confidently. “And a long thin tail with a tuft on the tip - I thought he was a Mymble at first, but that tail most likely made him a Mumrik. I didn't get too close, with him being on that roof, but he was wearing an old green cloak, too. People were pointing and talking, and he was the center of attention without even trying!”

Moomintroll felt his heart skip. Sniff’s description was exact - blessedly, he’d always had an eye for detail - and it couldn’t be denied. The Mumrik with the flute he’d seen had almost undoubtedly been Snufkin. 

“This morning, you say?” Moomintroll asked. 

“Yup,” nodded Sniff. “And then I got distracted and went off to the bakery. They’ve got these marvellous apple turnovers that…”

Sniff began on a long and detailed explanation of the offerings at the bakery, but Moomintroll’s mind had already begun to wander. Sniff had seen Snufkin, up on a rooftop in the city that very morning, undoubtedly around the same time that Mrs. Fillyjonk had discovered the pipe on his windowsill. The rogue could easily have chosen to depart for the next Kingdom along, especially after having left the castle before the first light… but instead, he had remained. 

Moomintroll didn’t care, of course. The rogue could stay or go - the Prince had no real interest in the routines of a common criminal. But he had proven himself useful, and demonstrated that he could gain entry into the Snork Castle. So if he did happen to come back, well. 

Moomintroll wouldn’t mind. He wouldn’t mind at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 https://akingdomofthree.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> drop us a line (comment), fellas! we appreciate you!


	4. Rising Tide, Troubled Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Princess Snorkmaiden leading the Snork Guard, whispers of escalating tensions begin to reach Prince Moomintroll’s ears. In an attempt to avoid feeling powerless, he resolves to search for a solution to the war himself - but without guidance, he risks becoming hopelessly lost. 
> 
> Luckily, a certain Mumrik rogue has a good sense of direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello there folks!
> 
> we're super excited to share that we've already had some FANART for this fic??? it can all be found over on our blog at akingdomofthree.tumblr.com - BIG big thanks to unknownamoeba and makingmoominsamusical on tumblr for your art!!! we love you!
> 
> and if you're reading this, we love you too :3 enjoy!

A precious pawful of time remained before dusk, and Prince Moomintroll decided to go out for a ride. 

The stable-hands knew not to bat an eyelid at the presence of the Prince, despite him venturing outside after dinnertime. He crossed the yard and crept into Finneas’ stall, the horse letting out a whinny that was quietened when Moomintroll pressed a paw to his flank. 

“Hello, my lovely boy,” he whispered, a smile settling on his lips. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an apple, crisp and red. Finneas caught it between strong teeth and crunched it up in one bite. 

“There you go,” said Moomintroll, stroking the horse’s mane. “A nice treat for you - now, won’t you come on a ride with me?”

Finneas chewed, and gazed at Moomintroll with glossy eyes. The Prince smiled, and then moved to fetch his horse’s tack from the other side of the stable. 

His gaze fell upon a decorated red bridle, and he tutted softly. 

“They’ve left your parade things out again,” he murmured, hefting the leather from its peg. “Typical. I’ll have to go and get your ordinary bridle from the tack room. Be a good boy for me, all right?”

Moomintroll took the saddle next, heavy in his arms, and just about managed to reach out and pat Finneas’ flank as he passed by. He strode out into the yard, humming to himself. 

He only managed to make it a few paces before something made his ears prick. 

At first, he thought it might be the chatter of the stable-hands - but as he turned a corner, he saw the distinct glint of guard uniforms. He slowly withdrew, concealing himself behind the wall, and peeked around to get a proper look at them. 

Three guards, in fact, were stood in a corner, smoking their pipes and laughing. They appeared to be men, with low, rumbling voices, and every so often one would make a remark that had the other two bent double and wheezing.

Moomintroll leaned in, and began to catch their conversation. 

“Tell you what,” said one of them. “It’s getting to be a bloody nuisance at the border. Took my missus hours to get the stock in for her shop last week - she’s been getting the same order for ten years or more, she told me! But nope, it’s all fees and import tax now - the Snorks want their cut before she’s even made a single penny.”

“I don’t understand why they had to stop us from at least going _over_ there,” said another. “My brother only lives one village along from us, but because his falls under the Snork Kingdom we can’t do a damn thing. He can’t even meet me at the local alehouse, for Protector’s sake!”

“It’s all show,” said the third, very confidently indeed. “All show. That upstart King wants to flex ‘is muscles, I reckon. Make as much of a mess as possible and watch our Queen have to clear it up.”

Moomintroll swallowed. He wasn’t stupid - he knew this kind of conversation would be taking place in towns and villages all over Kingdom. Still, it sent an unpleasant sensation rolling down his spine, as if he had discovered something he wasn’t supposed to know. 

“Not sure if she would,” said the second. “She’s more of a diplomat, her Highness.”

“They say she’ll have her work cut out for her with that Snork Princess,” said the first. Moomintroll’s stomach dropped. “She won’t stand for a soft touch, apparently. Tough as old boots.”

The second cracked a laugh. “Is that so? I remember when she was a mere mite, running around the flowerbeds with all that long hair.”

The first lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Well. She’s all grown up now, and no doubt eager to prove herself in her brother’s court. I wouldn’t be surprised if we see a bit of escalation from here on out, boys.”

“Escalation?” said the third. He scoffed, and turned his pipe upside-down. The ashes scattered on the wind, blowing far enough to settle just an inch or so from Moomintroll’s toes. “If they try an’ send us t’war, I will not be going. I’ve got a one-year-old at home. What would I tell ‘im, eh? And me ‘usband, too. Tell ‘em both I’ll be coming back with a wooden leg, if at all?” He scoffed again.

“What if they draft us?” asked the second. 

The third hummed noncommittally. 

“Get ‘em to send the Prince in my place. He’s old enough.”

The raucous laughter burst out once more, and the second guard leaned heavily on the wall as his shoulders shook. Moomintroll felt his eyes start to sting. 

_It’s just a joke,_ he told himself. _They’re only joking._

Suddenly, his grip on the bridle wavered, and it slipped through his grasp. It landed on the floor with a clatter of metal on stone, and Moomintroll startled, gathering it back up with a racing heart. 

“Hello?” said one of the guards. Instantly, their demeanour shifted - the pipes were emptied and tucked away, and they straightened their shoulders. 

Moomintroll had little choice. The tack room was across the yard, and he would need to cross their path regardless. 

He stepped out. 

“Only me,” he said, hefting the tack higher up in his arms. At once, the guards hurried over, and began to take the things from him. 

“Here, your Highness—”

“No need to worry—”

“We’ll sort it out—”

Moomintroll stood on the spot, and his paws suddenly felt rather empty. He reached for his tail.

“I was just, um… just going out for a quick ride,” he said. It all sounded so ridiculous now. “I need Finn’s standard tack—”

The third guard nodded and turned to retrieve it without another word. The others stood around him, almost awkwardly, and Moomintroll glanced up at them. 

“I was going to take that back myself,” he murmured. “I don’t mean to cut into your break.”

“What?” said one of them. “Not at all, your Highness. That’s what we’re here for.”

Within a minute, the guards had swapped the tack, and Moomintroll found himself having to insist that he tacked Finneas himself. They eventually relented, each offering him a bow, before wandering back towards the castle. 

Moomintroll shuffled back to the stable in silence. He took in a deep breath as he lifted Finneas’ saddle over his back, fastening it in place and patting the horse’s flank. He moved around to the front and lifted the bridle over Finneas’ head. 

“Oh, what am I to do?” he whispered, running his paw up his horse’s nose. The talk of escalation was surely just hearsay - rumours from the towns, where gossip flowed and the citizens entertained themselves by imagining exaggerated misery. He knew that his mother would do everything necessary to prevent a clash of swords against the Snorks. 

But the guards had mentioned _him._ If he were anyone else’s son and not the Queen’s, he too would be working for a living, in the midst of the war hanging over their lives. He supposed he might have ended up a guard, with a pledge to lay his life down for the Kingdom, and the threat of an escalation would be enough to strike a mortal fear within him.

No wonder, then, that the guards made fun of him. Perhaps it was just as Little My said - perhaps it truly _was_ unclear to see exactly what his role in the Kingdom was. He was the heir, for certain. But beyond that, he was required only to exist.

Finneas lifted his nose and nudged Moomintroll’s cheek, pulling the Prince from his thoughts. He squeezed his eyes shut, just for a moment, and then turned to lead Finneas from his stall.

###### 

It didn’t take Moomintroll long to ride far out into the forest. He leaned into the saddle as they cantered past the boundaries of the castle walls, the air cool between his ears. Once the trees came into view, Moomintroll slowed Finneas to a walk. He would continue on to the sea, he decided, and ride along the sand before the tide came in. 

Warm beams of sunset filtered through soft pink apple blossoms and landed around him. A strip of light fell between his eyes, tickling the bridge of his nose with a gentle heat. 

“I suppose horses don’t have many problems, do they?” Moomintroll asked. He smiled softly, clasping both reins in one paw to rub at Finneas’ mane. “Especially not you, being so loved by a Prince as you are. That’s your deal in life - to be loved by me to the end of your days.”

He let out a soft sigh, squinting into the glare of the sun as he stared ahead of him. 

“Well, I’m not just going to sit idly by,” he resolved suddenly. “No matter what those guards might think. No matter what _anyone_ might think. I’ll simply have to… find a resolution to the war myself.”

He sat up in his saddle, considering it for a moment. If the Princess had made her way to the top of the Snork military, there was no reason why he couldn’t sit at his mother’s court as well. He was a good negotiator, he thought - good enough to make a deal with a passing rogue - and he knew Snorkmaiden better than anybody else. It wouldn’t take much for him to turn things around, he was sure of it. And then…

“Then nobody will have any reason to doubt me at all,” he said aloud. “I’ll be the Prince who brought back peace to the Kingdoms. I’ll go down in the history books, Finn. Maybe you will too.”

That would certainly be enough to shut everyone up on the topic of _marriage._ Heroes didn’t need to marry - they could do as they pleased.

Moomintroll smiled to himself, wiggling in his saddle, and urged Finneas on.

Soft pink apple blossoms swayed in the wind in the branches above him, and he kept on riding, the well-trodden path twisting here and there as it led towards the shore. Except… 

The path never led to the shore at all. Moomintroll blinked, passing yet another apple tree with pink blossoms swaying overhead. He glanced behind him, and when he looked forward again, the tree was directly in front of him. He stared. 

“Did I… take a wrong turn?” he murmured. He slowed to a stop, shifting in the saddle to gaze around him. “We’re near the orchard furlong, I’m sure of it, but…”

He shook his head, despite the quiet hammering of his heart in his chest. 

“See? I’m going batty, Finn. Too much stress, all this political business…”

His ears drooped, and he steeled himself as he rode under the apple tree. He kept his gaze ahead, intently focused, his paws gripping the reins. He knew these forests well. There was no way he could get lost.

But up ahead, golden sunlight spilled through the soft pink blooms of an apple tree. 

He began to panic.

Clicking his tongue, he urged Finneas into a trot. The trees started to blur around him, the horse’s hooves thudding on the well-trodden path. The forest seemed brighter somehow despite the growing dark, yet it felt as though it were closing in, suffocating Moomintroll down to a choke point.

He felt the sudden sting of frustrated tears. He was not in the orchard, and he had not yet reached the sea, and he was _certain_ he was not moving in circles - but no matter where Finneas walked, the apple tree reappeared in his line of sight. He stopped once more under the accursed tree, jerking the reins toward the forest and off the path. 

“Oh for _heaven’s_ sake—”

“I wouldn’t go that way if I were you.”

Moomintroll’s head shot up at the sound of a voice. High in the branches of the apple tree, silhouetted by the evening light, sat a familiar Mumrik. 

Moomintroll startled. 

“Snufkin?!” he yelped. His ears began to burn at the force of his reaction, and he sat up, clearing his throat. “Ahem. I mean, um. Snufkin - what are you doing here?”

He saw Snufkin tilt his head, his brown eyes flashing with curiosity. 

“Perhaps I ought to ask you the same thing,” he said.

Moomintroll kept a firm grip on his reins. His jaw clenched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am riding to the beach.”

Snufkin lifted a brow. “You are, are you?” he said. “Might take you a while.”

Moomintroll frowned. He glanced around him, and then glared back up at Snufkin in the tree. “Are you playing some kind of trick on me?”

“Not at all,” Snufkin replied. “But without a guide you’ll only get yourself more lost.” He stood and stepped from one branch to another, in the opposite direction of where Moomintroll had been heading. He beckoned him along. “Yip, yip.”

“That’s impossible!” Moomintroll insisted. “I can’t get lost. These are _my_ woods.” 

“Yours?” Moomintroll heard the amusement in the Mumrik’s voice. “Not quite. I’m afraid you’ve wandered into a faerie bridge.”

Snufkin kept moving, stepping onto a lower branch. Moomintroll reluctantly urged Finneas along. 

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” he muttered. He passed underneath the tree, and Snufkin crouched above him. “There are no Fae in the Moomin Kingdom.”

He heard a chuckle from beside him. 

“Oh, if only it were that simple,” Snufkin said. “There are traces of the Fae in all corners of the world - didn’t you know that?”

Moomintroll felt a flare of indignation. “Well - I mean - _no,_ not exactly, but that’s because…”

He trailed off. 

“Because what?” Snufkin answered. He dropped down from the tree, landing on the forest floor below with a quiet thud of his boots. “Because you think the Fae are irrelevant to you? Because you think they’re just an old tale?” He jogged ahead a few paces, not looking back. “I assure you, these things are very real.”

Moomintroll huffed. He gently pressed his heels into Finneas’ sides, and the horse picked up his pace. “Stop speaking in riddles,” he scolded. “Just get me back onto the path, will you?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Snufkin replied. 

They walked on further, and Moomintroll had to admit the relief he felt when the apple tree disappeared from sight. Still, the forest stretched out ahead of him, and he was less and less certain that he knew where he was with each step Finneas took. 

“Snufkin?” he asked, after a moment. 

“Yes?”

“If… if, theoretically, we _happened_ to be a faerie bridge right now… how close do you think we might be to not being in one?”

Snufkin hummed. “I’m not sure.”

“You’re not _sure?!”_

“Well, of course not,” said Snufkin, as if it were obvious. “No bridge is the same. One may only be a hundred yards long, another may be a hundred miles. You just have to search for an exit.”

Moomintroll felt a shiver run down his spine. “Yes, well… you’re going to find one,” he said. It was easy enough to tell people what to do in the castle - but deep inside the forest, with no visible way out, Moomintroll’s confidence faltered. 

Luckily, Snufkin’s hadn’t.

“I am,” he replied. “It’s not difficult. Try not to look behind you. Once we find the exit, focus on it like it’s the only thing in the world.”

Moomintroll felt a rush of panic. “Don’t look behind me? Snufkin—”

But Snufkin was already trotting ahead at an easy pace, his paws in his pockets. Moomintroll watched as the rogue slowed, lifting his head to the wind and sniffing the air every so often. Entirely unsure of what else to do, Moomintroll copied him.

Faint as a whisper, the breeze carried in the scent of salt, and Moomintroll turned his head towards it. 

“The ocean,” he said. “I smell the ocean.”

“Where?” Snufkin asked, and Moomintroll pointed. “We’re getting close.” 

Snufkin picked up his pace again, darting through the trees. Moomintroll kept his eyes forward as the scent of salty air grew stronger. A branch brushed along his shoulders as he passed beneath a tree, and he startled, as if someone had tapped him on the back. He felt the expanse of the forest looming behind him, close and yet distant; he felt watched.

“Eyes forward,” he murmured to himself. 

Suddenly, Snufkin cried out ahead of him. “There!”

He stepped onto a fallen log, pointing toward a stand of trees. Moomintroll’s heart leapt, his eyes falling on a tree trunk wrapped in white flowers. Their petals almost seemed to glow in the evening light, soft and ethereal.

“That’s our way out.”

“The _tree?”_ Moomintroll asked.

“No,” said Snufkin. He pointed. “Do you notice how the vines are growing?” His finger followed their pattern, curling up the bark of one tree before lifting and twisting towards the next. “They make an archway. See?”

Moomintroll’s brow furrowed, and he nodded. He slowed Finneas down and offered Snufkin a paw. 

“Up,” he instructed. “We’ll be out faster if we’re both on horseback.”

Snufkin blinked. For a moment, Moomintroll thought he might refuse - but then he offered his paw with a quiet huff. The Prince pulled him up easily, swinging him onto the saddle behind him.

Without further ado, Moomintroll pushed his heels back and dug them into Finneas’ sides. The horse took off at a gallop, and Moomintroll steered them towards the trees Snufkin had pointed out. The wind whipped past them, the forest rapidly darkening with the growing nightfall.

He rooted his gaze between the trees, staring at them more intensely than he’d ever stared at anything in his life. They moved closer and closer until they passed the trees entirely and kept going, the ocean coming into view as the forest thinned out.

“Are we out? Did we make it?”

Snufkin was quiet behind him. The fur on the back of Moomintroll’s neck lay flat, and gone was the creeping feeling of being watched. 

“Good work,” Snufkin finally said, and Moomintroll looked back. The forest appeared as normal as it always had. “We’re out.”

Finneas slowed to a walk as they emerged from the woods, the air cool and refreshingly salty. They rode on towards the beach.

“Ah, well… you were the one who spotted it,” said Moomintroll, after a moment. “Thanks for that.”

They reached the ocean just as the stars began to spill out over the sky, and Moomintroll kept riding forward until the Finneas’ hooves landed in soft sand. Pulling him to a stop, he gestured for Snufkin to get down, before swinging his leg over the saddle and slipping off. 

He reached into his pocket and drew out a pawful of small sugar lumps.

“Good boy,” he beamed, petting Finneas’ neck. He held his paw out, and Finneas eagerly gobbled the sugar lumps up. “That was a nasty scare, wasn’t it? But we got out, all in one piece.”

“He’s very well-trained,” Snufkin said, tucking his arms behind his back. “Horses tend to get spooked in the bridges. What’s his name?”

“Finneas,” Moomintroll said. “He’s trained to withstand all sorts. Has to, being one of the Queen’s horses. You never know what you’re going to come up against.”

Snufkin grinned. “Well hello, Finneas,” he said. “Sorry I took a ride before we were properly introduced. But you did very well too.” He lifted his paw, and Finneas pressed his velvety nose into Snufkin’s palm.

They stood a while in silence, listening to the waves as they rolled up on the shore. It was a gentle, repetitive swoosh, a sound that had soothed Moomintroll since he was as small as a Moomin could be.

“So…” he began, bundling Finneas’ reins and starting down the beach, Snufkin in tow. “What are they? The faerie bridges, I mean.”

“Anything that creates a natural gateway,” Snufkin said. “Trees or shrubs meeting or felled against the other. Cliffs and caves, some waterfalls.” He shrugged. “I travel through them all the time. They can cut distances in half, if you know your destination.”

“Wait,” Moomintroll said, his ears flicking. “You travel through them? As in, you go into them on purpose? Why would you do that if they’re dangerous?”

“They aren’t _dangerous,”_ Snufkin said pointedly. “Not exactly. Not if you know what you’re doing.”

“How have I never encountered one before?” Moomintroll asked.

Snufkin’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “New bridges are created all the time. Those flowers must have recently bloomed.”

“But what if someone else should get stuck there? Another Moomin - someone who doesn’t know about it?”

“Well,” said Snufkin. “You know the way out now, don’t you? Your people are lucky their Prince found it before anyone else.” He rolled his eyes with a somewhat contemptuous smirk. “Goodness knows how the authorities love to erect _signs_ all over the place.”

They walked in silence for a moment, before Snufkin slowed to a stop and removed his backpack to rummage through it.

“I’ve finished the book,” he said. He pulled it out as proof, and passed it into Moomintroll’s arms. “Here.”

Moomintroll stared down at the book. He inspected it and found it to be in perfect condition - just as it had been when it left the library. 

“I have to say,” he murmured, “I wasn’t expecting you to bring this back.”

Snufkin raised his eyebrows. “What, did you think I would have just carried it around forever?”

_“No,_ just—”

“Perhaps I ought to have sold it while I had the chance,” Snufkin considered, and gestured forward with his paw. “Give me it back so I can get it valued.”

“Oh, hush up, will you?” Moomintroll snapped. Snufkin laughed, shaking his head. 

“No, that’s all,” he said. “No tricks. No surprises. It’s yours.”

Moomintroll pursed his lips. He glanced down at the book again, and ran his paw over the cover. 

“But… your pipe,” he blinked. “You left it at the castle.”

“I was on my way back this evening,” Snufkin replied. “I thought there would be no harm in fetching the pipe when I returned your book. I can’t have you thinking I’m _unreliable,_ now, can I?”

“Mm.”

“Besides, you shooed me out long before we had the opportunity to discuss anything further—”

“There’s nothing else to discuss,” Moomintroll said, folding his arms. Snufkin’s smirk persisted. 

“Isn’t there?”

Moomintroll thought for a moment, and then let out a long sigh. 

“We… _might_ be able to come to another arrangement,” he said. He lifted up the book. “But only because of this.”

He felt the surface of the leather with the pad of his thumb, his eyes locked squarely on Snufkin’s.

“Are you asking a Mumrik to make a commitment?” Snufkin asked lightly.

“That depends. Are you agreeing to a commitment?”

Snufkin’s eyes sparkled. “Absolutely not. Simply… extending a contract.”

“Right,” said Moomintroll. “Of course.” 

“Of course,” Snufkin repeated. “So… what’ll it be?”

Following all the fuss of the faerie bridge, Moomintroll found his mind drawing a blank. 

“Um - well,” he started, “I’ll need you to go back to the Snork Kingdom again. And… there are a few… potentially very important tasks I could give you.”

Snufkin gave a slow nod. 

Moomintroll knew that talking a lot always made one seem very clever indeed - and so, despite having very little instruction for Snufkin, he decided to continue. 

“Because you see,” he said, “I have… a plan, for the betterment of the Kingdom, and… while I unfortunately cannot divulge the details of such a plan to a mere rogue like yourself—”

Snufkin lifted a brow. “Mm-hm.”

“—I have to admit that your involvement may be useful. On some level.”

There was silence. Snufkin nodded again, and then held out a paw. “So…?”

“So?”

“So what am I supposed to be doing?”

Moomintroll chewed his lip. “You are supposed to be… returning to the castle,” he said carefully. “In… two days’ time, to retrieve your pipe. And your instructions.”

“Right,” said Snufkin. He tucked his paws behind his back. “In that case… I’ll borrow another book, please.”

“What?” Moomintroll blinked. “But you just borrowed one!”

“It’s only fair,” Snufkin shrugged. “Besides… a single book is not going to give me the information I need. I will do what you ask, in return for another book.”

Moomintroll huffed a sigh. “... Very well,” he muttered, holding out a paw. Snufkin reached out with his, and they shook. “Deal.”

###### 

The following day, Moomintroll attended his favourite lesson of all.

Among the typical studies for a young royal - history, economics, literature - the Prince biweekly received a lesson known simply as ‘Moomin Studies’, conducted by none other than the Queen herself. 

‘Moomin Studies’, of course, was a rather vague term. There wasn’t much that _could_ be studied about Moomins, unless one wanted to explore in-depth the thickness of their fur or tufted tails. The Queen took the opportunity to teach Moomintroll anything she could think of; cultural things, such as festivals and food and farming techniques, to bridge the gaps of knowledge between the future King and his subjects. But in reality, their lessons were rarely productive. 

The Queen would always begin by earnestly teaching Moomintroll something new, and he would always begin by listening intently. But as the minutes ticked by, their conversation would drift away from the subject itself, and towards all manner of different things - and before they could stop themselves, they would laugh themselves silly over inside jokes and while away the rest of the afternoon. That, Moomintroll supposed, was what made it his favourite.

“So,” continued the Queen, after having begun a riveting discussion on the nature of Moomin seafood exports, “These oysters do tend to prefer the warmer, shallower waters - the estuaries and bays where the tides go in and out. The fishers will wade in and collect them, and they’ll be brought to market the very same day.”

“But I don’t _like_ oysters, Mamma,” protested Moomintroll, resting his head in his paws with his elbows on the desk. “It’s like swallowing a snail.”

The Queen laughed. “I am not asking you to like them, dear,” she replied. “Only that you might learn about them, and find out how the fishers live. You’ll have to meet with all manner of Moomins when you get older. Many of whom consider oysters to be a delicacy.”

Moomintroll let out a groan, and the Queen stepped forward to rub affectionately between his ears.

“You know, oysters used to do a great deal for us along the border,” she murmured. Moomintroll glanced up to meet her gaze, and she kept her paw atop his head. “You can find them all along the coast, and so Moomins and Snorks would always fish for them together. It was a joint export, once upon a time.”

“And now?” Moomintroll asked. 

“Now…” said the Queen, her voice just a little wistful, “We tend to sell them separately. The fishers have to denote their nationality on the oyster boxes.”

Moomintroll hummed quietly. He said nothing, and the silence held between them for a moment.

“Would you like to take a little break?” asked the Queen. Moomintroll nodded, and she smiled, sitting down at the opposite side of the desk.

“I… heard about what happened with Lady Lumi,” she said softly. “I am sorry it didn’t work out. But… I suspect you’re rather more relieved than upset. She was headstrong. I’ll give her that.”

Moomintroll let out a sigh. “There was nothing _wrong_ with her. It’s just… everyone I meet knows exactly who they’re talking to, and they adjust themselves accordingly. So many of these ‘suitors’—” he cocked his fingers in an inverted comma, “—stuff their chances with me by assuming they’re entitled to this or that. Asking about marriage or titles or their stake in the Kingdom when I’ve only met them once or twice!”

His mother’s paw settled on his shoulders, and he slowly relaxed. 

“I just wish I could have more _friends,_ you know?” he continued. “Not suitors, not nobles, nobody with any kind of political interest. You know… people I can just have a laugh with. People I can get to know, like any other young Moomin out there.”

"I know, dear," the Queen replied sympathetically. “I know it’s been difficult for you. But one day, you _will_ find someone you can relate to. Just like I did with your father.” She gave him a small smile. “He never cared a fiddle about my title. He spent weeks trying to convince me to drop all of my duties and travel the world with him.”

“Oh, of course he did,” Moomintroll chuckled. “Well, I’m not quite looking for someone like Pappa, but…” He grinned, and reached out to squeeze his mother’s paw. “I’m glad you found him.” 

“Me too,” said the Queen, and squeezed his paw back. 

As if summoned by magic, the study door burst open and the King appeared. He was panting, as if he’d run down the hallway, and looked strangely serious. 

Something was wrong. 

“My Queen—!” the King said urgently - for once, ignoring Moomintroll almost entirely. “You must come with me. With haste, my love. An emergency has arisen that requires your immediate attention.”

Moomintroll blinked, his ears swivelling forward towards his father. He stood up just as his mother did, both of them gazing towards the King with wide eyes. “Pappa?” he asked. “What is it?”

The King looked at him, and Moomintroll knew at once that his suspicions were correct.

“Not to worry, my boy,” he said. “I just need a moment of your Mamma’s time.”

The Queen nodded. Moomintroll watched as she made her way around the desk, and he reached out to throw his arms around her briefly. She squeezed him, once, and then leaned in to kiss his forehead.

“I’ll be back shortly,” she said. “I’ll explain everything when I return.”

Moomintroll’s heart raced with anxiety as soon as his parents left the room. He twirled in a panicked circle, tail lashing behind him, clasping his paws together and twiddling his thumbs.

It was very rare that the King looked so serious.

He let a little whine out into the empty room, his mind skittering while he attempted to make a decision.

“I’m the Prince,” he said to himself. “I can’t just… hide away until it all blows over. I have to know.” He straightened up. “I _have_ to find out.”

Without any further deliberation, Moomintroll rushed from the study and down the corridor towards the main meeting hall. He found the door closed when he got to it, guarded sternly by two armoured Moomins, and he slowed to a stop in front of them. 

They nodded to him, and he met them with a sheepish wave.

He’d have to find another way.

Moomintroll counted himself lucky that he’d explored every inch of the castle throughout his childhood. He raced up the stairs into the gallery overlooking the meeting hall, and tried the large oak door. It was open.

“Perfect,” he whispered.

He crept in as silently as he could manage, sneaking behind the iron railing which marked the edge of the gallery’s balcony. He peered through the gaps in the metal, gazing down at his parents below.

The Queen and King were stood together, listening carefully to the words of a heavily-decorated knight - Moomintroll knew this to be Rafferty, the Captain of the Moomin Guard. He strained his ears to listen.

“… yes, on the southern side of the bay,” he was telling them. “I have been reliably informed that there were no less than five individual disputes there this morning.”

Moomintroll watched his mother shake her head.

“I just don’t believe it,” she murmured. “Disputes over shipping lanes? We have shared those lanes quite peacefully for centuries.”

The King reached over to rest his paw over the Queen’s. “We are in a time of war, my dearest. I should think that we must begin anticipating the unexpected.”

Moomintroll felt a chill run down his spine. If they were discussing the war, then that meant—

“There is also the added consideration that the Snork Guard has a new Captain, Your Highness,” said Captain Rafferty. “The Princess Snorkmaiden. As of one or two months ago, but we learned of it only very recently.”

“By the Protector,” said the King, and Moomintroll heard the disdain in his voice. “Captain of the Guard? Nepotism is alive and well, I see.”

“However many guards we have stationed at the coast, double the number,” said the Queen. “Ensure they have whatever resources they need. Redirect what you must.” She turned towards the King. “My dear, I need you to confer with the Naval fleet and see what they say. I trust Captain Rafferty’s informants, but we need more than what we have at present.”

“Of course, your Highness,” said the King.

The Queen’s gaze moved back to Rafferty. “Let’s nip this in the bud, shall we?"

“Very well, my Queen,” the Captain nodded.

Moomintroll watched his mother step towards the doors, and the King soon followed. “That will be all, Captain. Thank you.”

Rafferty moved back, bowing deeply to the Queen first, then to the King. “Good-day, your Highnesses,” he said, before backing towards the doors. Only when they were open did he turn, following the tradition to keep the Queen in his sight until the very last.

The doors pulled shut, and Moomintroll watched his parents deflate.

“Bloody nonsense,” his father muttered. “Quarrelling over nothing. The Princess has put them up to it, I know she has. They’re planning something. They were always such fiery children.”

The Queen stepped forward, closing the distance between herself and the King. He opened his arms, and Moomintroll watched as his mother, usually so certain of everything, sank hopelessly into her husband’s embrace. 

“I don’t know,” she sighed, and the King stroked between her ears. “I don’t know.”

Moomintroll knew then that he could watch no more. He pulled away from the balcony and raced through the gallery doors, his paws shaking as he pressed his back against the wall. His eyes stung with tears. He longed for nothing more than to return to his mother - but there his mother had stood, in the arms of the King, just as frightened and unsure as he was. 

Up until now the war had been lengthy and gruelling - but it had been a conflict of words, a shuffling of politics and nothing more. Never before had the threat of a risen blade been more than that: a threat, easily smoothed over by diplomacy and compromise, something that the Moomin Kingdom had taken great pride in.

But now the Snorks seemed to be closing in. With each escalation, the Queen’s gentle approach was being picked apart, and Moomintroll felt the tension rise like the thick, dark clouds of a looming storm.

And with Princess Snorkmaiden at the helm of it all, he had never felt more stranded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy spring everybody! leave a comment if you like, we love to hear from you <3


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